


You Are My Home

by winterflame4



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Erebor, F/M, Laketown, Mirkwood, Movie 1: The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, Movie 2: The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug, Movie 3: The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies, Movie Dialogue, POV First Person, Rivendell | Imladris
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 34,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterflame4/pseuds/winterflame4
Summary: Caila (daughter of Fen, son of Alodal) is journeying to find a new place to call home. Then, a certain wizard provides a distraction for a motley crew's getaway. In defending them from Orcs, Caila's life will change forever.
Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 22





	1. Here Comes Company!

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this back in 2018 because I absolutely could not accept the ending of Battle of the Fives Armies. I take some liberties, but I do want to iterate that I only have ownership of the OC's I insert into this fic. I make use of movie dialogue where appropriate, modifying it only to fit the new context better. I also have only seen the movies and have not read the book, so if some canon story differs (excluding my additions), that is why.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

I woke up with grass tickling my nose, the morning sun warming my skin. I rubbed at my eyes so I could see clearly before sitting up, reacquainting myself with my surroundings. It was the second day I would spend in this nice little clearing, a quiet spot in a meadow surrounded by hardy trees. However, I knew I would have to leave this patch of heaven that day, so I took care to make the most of my remaining time there.

I got some bread and cheese from my pack, not wanting to start a whole new fire this morning, as it wouldn't be blazing long enough to be worth the effort. I ate my small breakfast looking through the trees, even though I knew I was alone. It was how I preferred to take this particular journey, although sometimes I regretted the choice. I could do well on my own, but sometimes I appreciated someone having my back so that I didn't always have to act so paranoid. Plus, company for just talking to would be a nice change. Having only myself and the silence to speak to only fulfilled so much.

I was on a quest to find my home. I had one as a child, with a loving mother and father, but it hadn't lasted. Just after I came of age, a terrible storm swept through the village, leveling it with ease. My father had been out in it, insisting on helping others weather the storm, leaving me with my mother. She thought she had heard him cry out for her, and before I could stop her, she was out of the house and blown with the wind. Just like that, I had lost both of my parents, and no one ever did find their bodies. There was a memorial, but I still felt empty thinking about it.

I had left after helping to rebuild our tiny village, unable to cope with the reminders of what I had lost. I had set out to find a home for myself elsewhere in Middle Earth, wherever I could find it. Even if I was alone for the rest of my days (if my mother had a grave, she would roll over in it if I spoke these words), I would be content until my death if I found where I belonged next. I wasn't expecting to find anyone, but if I did, I would be happy with that, as well. I just wanted to carry on like the strong young woman my father always told me I was, and in everything I would do, I aimed to make them proud of me.

When I was finished eating, I put on my outer layers of clothing and packed my bedroll before shouldering my pack. After casting one last, longing look at the meadow, I turned and left through the trees. There was fairly even ground here, the trees allowing me enough room to walk without difficulty amongst their roots. Some sun was still shining through the leaves above my head, beams of sunlight illuminating my path as I went along. The only way I ever knew where I was, was when I stopped in a small town to ask. I was decent with maps, but not as handy with them as I would have liked to be. However, a part of me loved not knowing where I was, or what to expect. I was on a proper adventure, even though I didn't know where I would rest my head for the last time, and it was exhilarating.

I came out from the woods quicker than I thought I would and was faced with land for countless miles before me---colors ranging from the deepest green to the driest beige, as well as the gray and black of the boulders spotting the landscape. I felt a grin spread across my face at the prospect of exploring it all, or most of it, and that put a bounce in my step as I continued onward. As fun as this was, I still had to be mindful, so one hand was always on the hilt of my sword as I walked.

It was a beautiful piece of work, my sword. It was a precious gift from my father, initially much to my mother's fear and distaste. Despite being scared that I would only hurt myself on accident, I surprised my mother by being quite adept during training---not that Father had been surprised. I had even practiced with him a few times, and nearly bested him. I say “nearly,” because he was so skilled in swordsmanship, and I still didn't believe I could have ever beaten him, not even if I had wanted to try. I was very proud of him, and him of me, which was why he had brought it back from one trip when he'd gone to see the Elves. It was interesting to hear about the creatures from my father's perspective, listening to him tell of their dwellings, mannerisms, their strange and lilting language. What he had been most enamored of whilst there, though, was their craftsmanship when it came to weaponry, especially their swords. It was his first time seeing the blades made, and due to his excellent relationship with them, was gifted two swords---one for him, and the one I now carried around my waist in its sheath.

When he had presented it to me, I could feel it was something special, even if I couldn't see all of it. He had told me of the magic of Elves, how it permeated one's very soul so deeply, one couldn't help but be at peace. That was how I felt as he transferred the sword and sheath to my hands, before I even saw the glint of the blade. When I saw it in its entirety, my breath was taken away. The first thing that drew my eye were the markings on the blade, itself, which my father explained was a mark of Elvish make. According to what he had been told, the sword would glow a bluish hue in the presence of Goblins or Orcs, and I was amazed. When I had first handled it, the sword truly did feel like an extension of my own arm, yet free to do what I needed it to do. It was light in handling, and sometimes I was only aware of holding it when the blade hit a target. It would jar my hands slightly and make a high, keening sound that I likened to a baby being woken before they're ready to. So, I was very careful with it in the future days.

I flipped the hood of my cloak over my head as the sun rose in the sky, not wanting to risk a sunburn without a shady place to take cover. It hadn't been overbearingly warm of late, so wearing my cloak wasn't as much of a hassle as it would have been in the hottest months of the year. In fact, I hadn't been keeping track of the months, not for a long while. I supposed it could be Spring, since none of the foliage around me had turned orange, but then again, the trees I encountered could be of the type with leaves that didn't change with the seasons. As with whatever locale I found myself in, the only way I could know for certain when in the year it was, was to ask someone. Seeing as I hadn't been in a small town for a while, however, I wasn't sure about much of anything at this point.

In what felt like no time at all, the green beneath my feet turned to beige, and the terrain was more rocky and uneven. Something about this place got under my skin, put me on edge. I gripped the hilt of my sword tighter in my hand, looking attentively around me to see what could make me feel like I was being watched. When I heard a keening sound coming from my hip, I stopped walking. Swallowing hard, I slowly pulled my sword out of my sheath, and my heart raced as my eyes took notice of the blade's blue glow. I let the sword fall back into its sheath and made to hide behind a boulder---enough to hide, but also to give me a good vantage point of the area. I sat as still as I could, straining my ears for any sign of danger. It didn't take me long to spot it.

My eyebrows furrowed at the small man in the sleigh, which was being pulled by...rabbits? I felt he wasn't the threat in question, and that was confirmed when large creatures on two legs, some riding beasts that looked like oversized wolves, escaped the forest and pursued after him. I could only assume these were Orcs, as I didn't think them big enough to be Goblins. My attention was grabbed away from the rabbit sleigh and back to the forest, where I saw another group escaping the trees and heading the other way from the sleigh. I guessed that the sleigh was the distraction for the Orcs, so this other group could find safety.

I followed this group with my eyes, taking note of the Orcs and their beasts with only my ears as I watched this group go between rocks. They would hide until the coast was clear, and then would run again. I spied a man with a graying beard, tall, wearing gray clothing and wielding a staff---most likely a Wizard, then---, and for all but one of the remaining company, I guessed that they were Dwarves. I had never seen a Dwarf before but had certainly heard tales and whispers about the great tragedy of Erebor on my journey. Although the one aside was near their heights, I couldn't think of what he was.

With hammering heart, I realized that the distance between the Orc pack and the fleeing group was closing quickly. As quietly as I could manage, I leaped down from the boulder and readied myself to fight. If I could help a traveling company in need, I would do my utmost, even I was never to hear from or see them again. Although I was one and they were quite a few, I supposed they would appreciate all the help they could get, seeing as the Orcs and their ridden beasts outnumbered them and looked quite ferocious.

On the count of three, I dashed from rock to rock, aiming to close the distance between myself and the Orcs. I had to get close to get my blade through one, and without a bow and arrow to help from farther away, I had to take the risk. I pulled my sword from its sheath, handling it as I had been taught to by Father, and waited. I counted ten even breaths before one Orc got the closest to me, and I calmly stepped out from behind the rock that hid me. It immediately took notice of me, and I thought I could see confusion on its scarred and dirty face.

“I'd hate to bother you, but seeing as you're the danger here...I have no choice,” I said with a nonchalant shrug and a small smile at the end.

It roared and held its hammer back to swing, but I was too quick for it. I darted behind it, giving it a few moments to turn around, a snarl sounding from deep within it. It aimed for me again, and I dodged it again, going off to the side. I heard another Orc fast approaching, so I aimed and struck true, my sword piercing its stomach. I pulled the blade out quickly, turning to stab the other one in the same fashion. I wasn't thinking it would take so little effort to get them down, but apparently something was in my favor.

I charged only the Orcs that were on their own, not riding the beasts, since they had a height advantage over me. I slashed and stabbed efficiently, downing Orc after Orc in a row. I didn't like killing, but I truly felt that the other group was in danger. Otherwise, I wouldn't have attacked, even if they were Orcs. I chanced a glance over my shoulder when I caught movement from the corner of my eye, and saw the group now closer to me, which meant the gap between them and the Orcs was still getting smaller. I muttered a curse under my breath and ran, feeling that more than Orcs' eyes were watching my every move.

I dashed behind a boulder to catch my breath, hands still gripping the hilt of my sword. It was then that I heard a distant shout from a deep voice nearby, and when I spun around to look, I saw one of the company shooting arrows at the Orcs. I took the opportunity to take down some that were not mounted on beasts to make it easier for him and keep him from losing too many arrows. When next I looked, he and the other, presumably the one who had called out to him, were both gone. In fact, the whole company was gone. My blood chilled, not knowing where they had gone, only hoping that they had found safety in shelter nearby. But how? There were only rocks out here, and they were vulnerable, exposed, outnumbered.

At that instant, I heard a horn blow, accompanied by the galloping of horses. I turned to see riders of a different sort, some carrying banners, while others used swords or bows and arrows on what remained of the Orc pack. I dashed back behind a boulder and kept low, waiting for it to all quiet down again. I heard weapons clanging and Orcs yelling, and I heard one after another fall at the hands of this new group of mounted warriors.

When I thought things were calmed down enough, based on the lack of noises from the other side of the boulder, I cautiously emerged from my hiding place to look around. The bodies of Orcs were strewn around me, and even their beasts lay dead on the ground with them. I had gone to sheath my sword, when I heard the unmistakable footfalls of one of the beasts, and I turned slowly with every hair on my back standing up on end.

Just a couple more feet, and the mutated wolf creature would have been breathing down my neck. Atop it, an Orc revealed its nasty teeth to me, raising its weapon to swing down at me. I had little time in the way of reaction, and instinctively raised my sword to block the attack. However, the Orc was more powerful than I had anticipated, and I was sent to the ground, my sword landing away from me. I sat up, scooting away as the Orc and beast closed the distance between us, and I thought for sure I was done at that moment. However, I heard an arrow fly just above the boulder my back was now pressed up against, and saw it go right through the Orc's head, and then another arrow pierced the head of the beast it was riding. Both fell to the ground heavily, and I exhaled a shaky sigh of relief.

I stood back up, bending to retrieve my sword and sheath it. When I was fully risen, a horse came into my line of sight, then another, and another. It was a proper group of warriors, and although I tried not to stare, my staring earned me a discovery---my hide had been saved by Elves!

I looked up, shielding my eyes from the sun so that I could see the Elf that had a leader's bearing, the one right at the front of the group.

“What is your name?” He asked. Even though he was speaking a language I understood, I remembered my father's words on the lilt in the speech, and I agreed with his observation. It was like music.

“Before I answer, may I have the pleasure of knowing with whom I speak to?” I asked in reply.

“I am Lord Elrond of Rivendell,” he replied kindly.

“I am Caila, daughter of Fen, son of Alodal,” I said, bowing as I stated my father and grandfather's names.

If I was seeing right, the Elf Lord gave me a puzzled look. “Would your father Fen be the one who gave you the sword you carry?”

I rose, my eyebrows furrowed. “Yes, my lord, the very same.”

“Caila, daughter of Fen, son of Alodal, I knew your father,” Lord Elrond replied. “Mine is the realm he visited those many years ago, and it was I whom gifted him two swords—the one I presumed he used, and the one you carry with you now.”

My eyes widened, and I fought to keep my jaw from slacking my mouth open. “It is truly an honor to meet you, Lord Elrond,” I said, bowing my head.

“And I, you,” he said. “To finally meet Fen's daughter is something I have thought about for quite some time. Perhaps you would like to see Rivendell for yourself and to rest from your fighting?”

I nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you, Lord Elrond.”

He turned to address one of his warriors in what I could only assume to be Elvish, since I didn't understand it, and one came forward from the group. He dismounted his horse to help me up to the saddle, then got back up on his horse behind me. I was nervous, as I didn't have much experience with horse riding, nor the speed at which the Elves would ride at. I had little time to ponder such things, however, as we were quickly off and away from the corpses of Orcs and their beasts.

I couldn't believe it---I was finally going to see the splendor of Rivendell!


	2. One Fateful Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caila sees Rivendell for the first time, and meets those whose destinies are now forever tied to her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad there was such a positive response to the first chapter :) Here is the second one, which I hope you'll enjoy!

We sped through a hidden pass and were covered with shade for a brief moment before breaking out into sunlight once again. This air felt very different, yet familiar. I remembered the magic when I had felt when I first held my sword, and I now felt it in the air around me. Even though we were at full gallop, I could take a deep breath in, and did. I was filled with a peace I couldn't describe, just as my father had told me he had experienced. A nostalgic smile broke across my face as I shared the experience with my father, whom I would have liked to believe was with me in that moment.

Lord Elrond led the elves as the same horn from earlier blew again, and we came to a bridge. Although my gaze was blocked, I thought I could see a little courtyard of sorts ahead, and it was occupied. The individuals there grouped themselves into a circle, wielding their weapons in protection, and I was surprised to recognize the group I had been trying to buy time for earlier! All the Elves on horseback surrounded the company, mine included, stopping after the group were totally enclosed in our circle. It seemed the group thought the Elves meant to harm them, the way they were acting. Lord Elrond dismounted his horse and addressed the gray-clad Wizard, calling him what I could only assume to be an Elvish term of endearment. It seemed like a friendly enough exchange, so why were the Dwarves still so tense?

I watched the proceedings in silence, observing Elves, Wizard, Dwarves, and... there, in the center of the circle, was the one creature I couldn't identify. He was no Dwarf, and certainly not Elf or a Man, so what could he be? I was able to restrain myself from staring at him, though, and paid more attention to the proceedings at hand.

The leader of the company stepped forward, and Lord Elrond welcomed him as Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, and I felt a sense of awed exhilaration. His name was in the whispers and stories I had heard before, of the day the mountain kingdom of Erebor was lost to the fierce and terrible Smaug. His bearing was regal, and there was no questioning that he was a king by right. I could see the gray streaks in his long, dark hair, noticed his beard was shorter than a lot of the other Dwarves', save for a couple of them, and he seemed to have no shortage of thinly-veiled anger for the Elf before him. In fact, all the Dwarves seemed wary of the Elves all around them to different degrees. There were surely stories I had not heard, concerning the dealings of Dwarves and Elves.

“Your face is familiar...”

I was snapped from my thoughts by the voice of the Wizard...Gandalf, his name was? I thought I had heard it mentioned offhand once or twice. He had stepped forward and was now looking up at me with curious eyes. This naturally drew the attention of the company behind him, who seemed to just now notice me.

“You fought off the Orcs as we ran,” Gandalf said. “Tell me, what is your name, my lady?”

I wasn't used to being called that, but I accepted it nonetheless. I didn't need to take the hood from my head, as it had removed itself during the ride.

“I am Caila, daughter of Fen, son of Alodal,” I replied with a small smile, taking care to also address myself to the rest of the company, as well as Gandalf. “And would you be Gandalf, Master Wizard?”

Gandalf smiled and nodded. “That, I am. You have our gratitude, Caila, for helping us as you did,” he said on behalf of those behind him.

“I'm glad to have done such a service,” I said genuinely.

It was then that Lord Elrond invited the company to food and drink, and I held back a giggle when the one Dwarf thought he and his kin were being threatened. After all, Lord Elrond had invited them in Elvish, which they could not understand. Thankfully, Gandalf understood and relayed the correct translation, and the Dwarves accepted after a moment of conference amongst themselves.

Most of the company had ascended the steps from the courtyard when Lord Elrond turned to address me.

“Will you join us, Caila?”

I nodded my assent and thanks. Carefully, the Elf behind me dismounted and helped me down from his horse. I thanked him, for which I received a nod and a characteristically Elvish smile before he began to lead his horse away. I caught up to Lord Elrond, ascending the steps and falling into step with him. Lord Elrond asked things of Gandalf as we walked, and the Dwarves, in addition to their unknown-species companion, remained silent. I did, as well, not wanting to eavesdrop or interrupt what could be very important matters of discussion.

A short time later, most of the company was seated at a table aside from the main one, where I was invited to sit with Lord Elrond. There was also Gandalf, Thorin, the Unknown (as I would call him for now), and a Dwarf with white hair and a thick beard of the same. Currently, Lord Elrond was examining the swords presented to him by Gandalf and Thorin, and I heard the white-bearded Dwarf exchange quiet words with the Unknown. When dinner was served, I tucked in, savoring the greens on my plate. It was valuable nutrition needed to keep me going, and I wasn't too well-versed in preparing such planted goods on my own. I was better with cooking meats and the such.

“Caila, what brings you to these lands?” Lord Elrond asked conversationally.

I took a moment to find the right words before replying.

“I travel to find my home,” I replied.

“Is this not the opposite direction to take? From what I remember, your father told me he hailed from the lands south of here.”

I folded my hands on my lap, but still looked up at the Elvish Lord. “It grieves me to inform you of my father's passing,” I said softly. “Both he and my mother fell prey to a terrible storm, which all but destroyed the village. I stayed to help rebuild, but I could not stay there, not after they died. I'm now out to find whatever corner of Middle Earth may welcome me as a new home.”

Lord Elrond's expression was solemn, yet still regal. “I am sorry to hear of Fen's death,” he said, lowering his voice, also. “He was a friend to many here, including myself. He spoke highly of his wife and daughter.”

“He...talked about us?”

He smiled at the surprise in my voice. “Oh yes, surely each day he was here! He told me of his tiny daughter, who had already shown interest in wooden swords. The sword you carry was the one I gave him, to give you when you were ready to use a proper blade. I am glad to see that it serves you well after all of these years.”

I nodded. “Thank you,” I said, a small smile on my face at the thought of my father telling tales about his family. “He spoke highly of your people when he returned home, and I am glad to have finally met you and see for myself the wonders of this place.”

“There is still yet more to see of it, if you wish to explore it further,” he offered.

I could only assume my eyes were sparkling with delight. “It would be an honor, Lord Elrond,” I accepted gratefully.

After dinner was done, I bade goodnight to those gathered at the main table before being led by a female Elf to a room where I could sleep during my stay. Once we were there, she opened the door and I stepped inside, taken by the beauty of the space. Even though the sun was setting, it seemed as bright as if the noonday sun was shining through. The bed was big enough for two of me, made with crisp, white sheets. Before the Elf left, she told me where the bathroom was located, in case I wanted to take a bath, and said there was a dressing gown in the wooden wardrobe near the bathroom door. She also said that, if I only left out my clothes after a bath, she would have them washed for me. I thanked her, and she closed the door after bidding me goodnight.

I found a dressing gown in the wardrobe, then readied myself for a bath. In the bathroom, there was a big, pristine tub. On little shelves just above the tub, there were different cleansing products for skin and hair, all with pleasant scents. I picked out the ones I would use and drew my bath, discarding my clothes when the tub was full. The water was comfortably warm as I got in, and I sank into it with a sigh of contentment. It had been a long time since I had time to pamper myself like this, seeing as I was constantly on the move. I took care to lather my dirtied skin until my original skin showed through and used some of the concoctions for hair to cleanse and strengthen the strands.

Once done, I found the plug and pulled it. I slowly got up out of the tub as the water drained, wrapping myself in a plush towel from a rack nearby. I put on the dressing gown once I was dry, then walked over to a washing basin to pick up a comb to tame my tangled locks. I dried my hair some more with the towel before putting it in a little bin for washing, then gathered my dirty clothes from the floor. I set them out by the windowsill before sitting on the bed to test it. It was far more luxurious than anything I had ever slept on before, and I was looking forward to having a decent sleep after my sorely needed bath.

As there was no lighting in the room, and with the sun having faded and giving the sky over to night, I pulled back the covers and climbed in, covering myself in softness. It seemed that no sooner had my head hit the pillow, I was fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this chapter! Ready for a third?


	3. The Next First Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caila learns from Elrond, and he makes a suggestion that steers the course of her future.

When I woke up the next day, I felt very well-rested. I blinked, looking around my room with a sleepy smile as I remembered where I was. Also, it seemed the Elves had made quick work of washing my clothes, as they were neatly folded at the foot of the bed. For a moment, I thought back to my father. To think I was finally in Rivendell, full of the Elves that he had told us many stories about, was still a bit hard to believe. I never thought I would see it for myself, even sometimes believed that he had stretched the truth to fuel my childhood imagination. Now I was here, so changed from a child, yet still one, in some ways. I yearned to have him here with me, or back in the village we once called home, so that I could tell Father and Mother my own stories of the Elves. I could have even told them I met the heir to the throne of Erebor. However, I was confident that my parents could see and hear all of this, and I liked to think that my father was smiling widely as I experienced the hospitality of the Elves.

I shook myself from my thoughts, so that they wouldn't consume the whole day and leave no time for exploring. I changed back into my clothes, which now felt more flexible and comfortable now that they were washed, and braided my hair into a single plait down my back. I splashed my face with water from the washing basin to wake myself up further before leaving for the morning meal. Before I could get two steps out of my door, though, I was surprised by the sight of the female Elf from the night before.

“Good morning, Caila,” she greeted me. “Lord Elrond has sent me to escort you to the morning meal.”

“Good morning, and thank you,” I said with a smile, shutting the bedroom door behind me.

We did not go to the main table, this time. Instead, the Elf led me down unfamiliar hallways to a smaller dining room, which was by no means less refined. Already sitting at the head of the table was Lord Elrond, who excused the female Elf. I bowed my head in greeting.

“Good morning, Caila,” he said, standing from his chair.

“Good morning to you, my lord,” I said, raising my head to see him gesture to the chair to his left.

I walked over and took my seat, and he took his. There was already food on the table, so we helped ourselves to the various bowls and baskets.

“I trust that your accommodations were to your liking?”

“Very much so, thank you,” I replied. “My father told me of the hospitality of your people, and now I have had the honor to experience it for myself.”

“I am glad to hear of it,” he said with a smile.

I occupied myself with buttering a piece of bread, thinking back on the company I had killed the Orcs to help. I should have expected Lord Elrond to be astute and sense my questioning mind before I went on thinking about such things.

“Are you wondering about the ones whom you helped to save from the Orc pack yesterday?” He asked knowingly.

“I am, actually,” I replied, putting down the butter knife. “I keep going over this one question in my mind, but I have refrained from asking it for fear of seeming rude.”

“For some reason, I doubt you have such a capability,” Lord Elrond said with a chuckle. “What is your question?”

I hesitated only a moment. “I recognize most of the company as Dwarves, and of course there is Master Gandalf, who is a wizard. However, there was one of their company that has me puzzled. He is nearly as tall as a Dwarf but does not seem like one. Perhaps there are Men who can be quite short, I am not sure if Elves can experience the same, and since they seem to trust him, he can't be an enemy creature. I just can't figure out where he comes from.”

“You may have heard of his people in stories from your childhood,” Lord Elrond replied, giving no indication that I had caused any upset. “His name is Bilbo Baggins, and he hails from the Shire, a realm of creatures called Hobbits.”

Of course, I remembered the stories! However, I had thought the Elves were more likely to be real than Hobbits, what with the way my mother said they lived in holes in the ground that were clean and not dirty or filled with worms. I couldn't wrap my head around that as a child, and now to know they were real...

“So, Shirefolk are real, after all,” I mused. “I find Rivendell is teaching me many things yet, Lord Elrond.”

“I can see why you feared to be rude in your question, but I assumed---and seemingly rightly so---, that you grew up believing Hobbits were the subjects of children's tales, and nothing more. As I said before, I do not believe you have the slightest capacity to be rude,” Lord Elrond assured me.

Breakfast went on with small talk after that. I could almost feel at home here, with someone who had known my father so well. It was certainly comfortable living, no doubt about that. It also felt like home because I knew that my father once roamed the same halls, perhaps even shared Lord Elrond's table, as I now did. Aside from the sentimentality and comfort of Rivendell, however, some part of me felt a yearning for some more distant home. I couldn't explain the feeling, but it was as if some deeper part of me was saying I had not found my home yet. I fought to keep the feeling of disappointment from my face, not wanting to seem ungrateful for every kindness the Elves had given me. However, I again should have known better than to think Lord Elrond wouldn't pick up on it immediately.

“What troubles your mind?” He asked gently.

I looked down at my hands, which were once again folded on my lap. “I'm sorry, Lord Elrond, for my wandering mind. I just...I keep thinking about where my journey might end. I wonder where I might call home, and although I know not where that may be, I feel it's there somewhere far away from here. Please don't misunderstand me, for I am very grateful for the kindness that you and your people have treated me to. However...even though I can imagine my father here, and see all the wonders his stories painted, I feel like I have a far way to go, yet.”

He nodded, as though he was thinking of something. “Perhaps I can still help in some way,” he replied cryptically. Leaning forward a little, resting his elbows on the table and folding his hands, he spoke again to me. “Caila, what tales have you heard about the mountain kingdom called Erebor?”

“I've only heard mentions of it as I have gone from place to place,” I admitted. “I recognized Thorin as the heir, and that his kingdom was destroyed by a dragon called Smaug.”

“Have you thought about why he and the other Dwarves are here?”

“Come to think of it, I have not,” I replied, realizing it only then. “Do they mean to return to the mountain?”

Lord Elrond sighed. “Last night, I learned that is their exact intention. Thorin Oakenshield and his kin, including Master Baggins, journey to the mountain in question. They wish to destroy the dragon and reclaim their kingdom once more.”

I felt the blood rush from my face. They planned to confront a dragon? Not just any dragon either, but Smaug! Either they were quite mad, or just insanely determined.

“How can they hope to defeat a dragon?” I murmured.

“From what I can gather, Thorin intends to find the Arkenstone, which is the jewel that was once embedded in the throne in Erebor. It is called the King's Jewel, and if he possesses it, he can call the seven Dwarven armies to his aid to defeat Smaug and take back The Lonely Mountain,” Lord Elrond explained.

I sat back in my seat. I didn't have much experience with combat, but I knew this was an extremely dangerous mission, perhaps the most risk-laden one I had heard of, yet. If not risky, it was outright foolish! I could understand some of the sentiment behind it, seeing as I was searching for my home and Thorin and kin had lost theirs. But to face that Firedrake of the North?

“If you wanted to stay here in Rivendell for a while longer, that can be arranged,” Lord Elrond spoke again. “However, since you seem to have the adventurous blood of your father, I offer another idea.”

“What is it?” I had a feeling of where this might be going.

“By no means do I give Thorin's company blessing to continue their journey. In fact, I think he knows that, and will leave sometime in the night to continue onward. Their path will lead them through uncertain territory, but perhaps along the way, you may find the home you seek.

“I have spoken to Gandalf about this, and in turn, he will consult with Thorin. If you should choose to do so, I offer you into their company. There are no guarantees, but there will also be no binding contracts. If in any place you stop, and feel you have found where you belong, you are free to stay and settle there. You would by no means be obligated to travel all the way to The Lonely Mountain, nor would you have to fight in any conflicts that arise from the reclaiming of Erebor. Seeing these new lands with the protection of an armed company would ensure safety in numbers, a relief after coming all this way on your own.”

I sat straight up, my fears realized. He was offering me to the company of Thorin Oakenshield on a journey that, in my own mind only moments before, I had called an outright foolish venture. As I thought more about it, though, I liked the idea of traveling with others. It would offer safety, conversation, and the chance to find the place I would call home. It sounded like all I would have to do was pledge my services instead of signing a contract, but I could leave any time I wanted to.

However, then I thought on that some more. I could understand why they were on this journey---their home had been taken from them by force, and they wanted it back. I couldn't bear to stay somewhere I had called my home, because its very foundation had been taken from me. We were on similar journeys with similar goals, and when I thought about it like that, it didn't feel right to go my own way before their home was taken back, even if I did find mine. No, I couldn't do that. It was all or nothing, and silently, I made the decision to pledge my sword and my life to the rightful King Under the Mountain. Lord Elrond was right in saying I had my father's adventurous blood, but I also retained his sense of honor. I could not, of sound conscience, pledge only part of myself to part of this quest.

I nodded in acceptance. “As long as Thorin Oakenshield and his company consent, I am more than willing to assist and accompany them,” I replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so thrilled that y'all seem to be liking this work! I'm going to try posting one or two chapters at the end of every week, depending on how long they are. I hope you continue to enjoy the story! :)


	4. Meeting the Burglar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps self-explanatory, but Caila is introduced to a certain member of Oakenshield's company.

I was able to explore Rivendell after that and parted from Lord Elrond on a pleasant note. He was going to find Gandalf, and presumably Thorin, to talk about my joining the company. Lord Elrond had cautioned me against telling anyone about the idea, as only he and Gandalf knew that the Dwarves would leave that evening or in the early morning hours to continue onward. For the time being, I occupied myself with the sights and smells around me, allowing my heart to feel as light as my footsteps.

I stopped at a balcony that overlooked the valley, closing my eyes to enjoy the sounds of birds and waterfalls, the magic of the Elves filling me with peace. It really was a beautiful place, just as my father had told me, and part of me felt sad to be leaving it so soon. However, I knew what must be done, so I resigned myself to enjoying its splendor while I still could. That way, when I found myself in more desolate places in the future, I would have lovely memories to help spur me on. I did wonder if I would ever see Rivendell again, and hoped with my whole heart that I would. However, there was still a journey ahead of me, so I couldn't get too ahead of myself.

Just then, I got the feeling that I wasn't alone. Opening my eyes, I turned to see a slightly startled Hobbit in the hall---Bilbo Baggins.

“Oh, I didn't realize you were---that's alright, I'll...I'll take my leave,” he said nervously, starting to walk away.

“No, it's alright,” I assured him, taking a step forward. “I don't mind company.”

He joined me at the balcony railing, and in looking out over the valley. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that he kept looking at me, perhaps in curiosity.

“You're...aren't you Caila?” Bilbo finally asked.

I looked over at him, nodding once. “That would be me. And you would be Bilbo Baggins, if I've been told right?”

“That would be me,” he said with a smile. “I saw you fighting against the Orcs yesterday, and although Gandalf said it quite well already, I thank you for helping us.”

“I'm glad to have provided my services, even if they were not asked for directly,” I replied with a smile of my own. “I'm also glad to know that you and the rest of your company made it out of there safely. When I suddenly couldn't see any of you, I feared the worst.”

“Well, aside from being scared out of my wits, I think we all came out alright.”

I chuckled a bit. “It would seem you don't give yourself much credit, Master Baggins.”

I stopped chuckling when I saw his face fall a little. “I'm sorry if I have offended you, Master Baggins,” I said, lowering my voice a little. “That was not my intention.”

Bilbo shook his head dismissively. “It isn't your fault, Caila. Most of them don't think I should be here at all.”

“How did you come to be here, Master Baggins?” I asked, not able to help my curiosity.

The Hobbit sighed. “I was tricked into it, really,” he explained. “Gandalf came to me about an adventure, and although I said I had no interest in one, I found myself playing host to Dwarves that same evening. When all was said and done, I decided to come along with them, but...sometimes I feel that they would do far better on their own.”

I looked back out over the valley in thought. “You gave up your home, so that you might help them reclaim their own,” I said quietly. “You've given up much to be here. Shouldn't that be enough to win their trust?”

Bilbo shrugged. “Apparently not.”

I folded my hands on the railing. “And that is why you stand here with me, instead of being with them?”

“They tend to be quite...loud, sometimes,” he admitted. “Much more so than I'm used to, anyway.”

I found myself able to chuckle again. “I can imagine that.”

Just off to the side, there was a bench, and I moved to sit on it. “Master Baggins, may I ask something of you?”

He turned to me, a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

“Could you tell me about your home? I was told it was called The Shire,” I asked.

Immediately, I saw his eyes brighten and his smile lift. Bilbo moved to sit beside me on the bench and faced me. He told me of houses in hills, clean as my mother had told me, with filled pantries and all the comforts of home. Bilbo's home had a round, green door, which he said was not too much taller than he was. He told me about his books and his garden, as well as his armchair and maps. He told me about the marketplace and tavern, and the different Hobbits he knew in the Shire. I was able to visualize fireworks in the sky during Midsummer by his words alone, and as he spoke, I could picture his small home. It sounded like a wonderful little dwelling, quite fit for him. The enthusiasm with which he spoke made me excited, too, and as clearly as I could picture it all, I wanted to see it for myself. It seemed like a marvelous place.

I had no clue how long we were sitting there, and I could hardly care, not when I was thoroughly enjoying myself as I was. But before long, it seemed Bilbo had told me everything he could about the place that he called home, and he sat with a contented smile on his face. I could see no trace of sadness in his face anymore, and for that, I was glad.

“The Shire sounds like a most brilliant place,” I said in awe. “Perhaps I should see it one day in the future.”

“If it is after our journey is done, perhaps I can show it to you,” Bilbo offered.

“It would be my honor, Master Baggins,” I said with genuine expression.

“Well, perhaps that's a bit of a stretch---”

“Oh no, I do mean it!” I assured him. “When I was a child, my mother told me stories of your people, just as my father told me stories of the Elves. Now that I have seen Rivendell and its people for myself, it would be an honor to see The Shire with someone who knows it best. Knowing that these stories are true is one thing, but to be able to see it with my own eyes? Believe me, saying it would be my honor is not something I say lightly.”

There was a moment before he spoke again.

“I would hope that I could do that someday, Caila. However, there is no guarantee that I will ever see my home again,” he said sadly.

I shook my head, turning to face him fully. “With any journey, there is risk. It is unwise for anyone to say otherwise. But Master Baggins, I do believe that you will see your home again. While they may not think you have it in you to help them, you deserve your place among them, just as any of them deserve to be there. Gandalf wanted you with them for a reason, and even though the Dwarves may not know it now, they should not discount you so readily.

“There's something my father used to tell me, when I was learning to use a sword,” I continued more softly. “I remember that sometimes, I would be teased by the other children, mostly by boys, about my lack of skill. They would tell me I did poorly because I was not a boy, and that girls weren't meant to wield a sword. Every time I came home in tears, my father would sit me on his lap, help me to stop crying, and reminded me of three things---that I was stronger than I believed, more necessary than I felt, and far braver than I knew. It was enough to spur me on, to do better, and I showed those who didn't think much of me, just what I was made of. Even today, I remind myself of his words, and they continue to help me.

“So now, Master Baggins, I say the same to you: You are stronger than you believe, more necessary than you feel, and you are far braver than you know.”

He nodded, thinking over my words. “Your father sounds like a wise man.”

“Indeed, he was,” I agreed. To keep my eyes from filling with tears, I changed the subject. “Swear to me you'll remember that, alright? Write it down if you must, but always remember it.”

“I will,” Bilbo assured me with a smile. “Thank you, Caila.”

“You're quite welcome, Master Baggins,” I said. “And thank you for telling me about your home.”

Just then, an Elf appeared in the hallway, and Bilbo and I both turned our heads to see what he could want.

“Master Hobbit, Lord Elrond has sent me to bring you to him on a matter of importance,” the Elf said politely.

“Alright, I'll be along,” Bilbo said, rising from his seat on the bench. Before he left, he turned back to me. “Thank you, Caila, for listening.”

I nodded my acceptance, then he turned and left with the Elf, leaving me alone again. Since he had been called by Lord Elrond, I could only assume the matter of importance was my joining the company. I assumed that, if Bilbo was being called, Thorin must have already been talked to about the matter. Either that, or the heads of the company were being consulted all at once.

I swallowed hard at the thought of their reactions. Would I still be traveling with the company if a consensus wasn't made?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes, I did do a variation of a Winnie the Pooh reference!


	5. The Journey Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caila officially joins the company of Thorin Oakenshield.

After the evening meal, I had come back to my room, giving no indication that I would be leaving soon. Strangely enough---or, considering that I was surrounded by Elves, perhaps not so strange after all---, I found that my pack's storage had been replenished, and my sword had been cleaned. I smiled, knowing this was ordered by Lord Elrond in preparation for leaving with the company. It was a silent kindness that I would never forget.

I took another bath but didn't bother to change into the dressing gown. Instead, I put my usual attire back on, and settled in to wait. As I relaxed, I realized I would have no clue when to leave. Was Lord Elrond going to personally come and tell me? Was I expected to know, already? Would someone from the company come to find me? I folded my hands over my abdomen, now beginning to worry. I had always been anxious when it came to being on time to things, and made sure I knew every detail well beforehand so that I wouldn't run the risk of missing any vital details. I tried to muster some confidence, though, and reasoned that somehow, I would know when it was time to move.

It was almost too dark to see my hand in front of my face when I heard a sound at the door. I slowly got up and made quiet steps toward the door, then stopped. I waited to see if there would be any other noises would be made, and sure enough, a quieter knocking sounded against the door. I opened the door just a little to see who was there, and before me, stood Bilbo.

“Master Baggins?” I whispered, looking up and both ways just in case someone was nearby, listening.

“Thorin wishes to leave, and I was sent to get you,” he responded in a whisper.

I nodded in understanding, gesturing for him that I would be just a minute. I went back to my room to get my pack and sword, then secured my cloak around my neck before raising the hood and meeting Bilbo outside. I followed him through hall after hall, pressing myself against the wall when he did to remain unseen by some Elves that were still awake. The air was cool, and everything was much quieter, as the birds had been asleep for hours. I could still feel Elven magic in the air around me, though, and I had half a notion to fear that we were being watched. However, I kept at the front of my mind the fact that this was Lord Elrond's plan, that I was to go with the company because he allowed it.

We didn't speak, opting to keep as quiet as possible as we made our way across the bridge and up the path where the Dwarves of the company were waiting. I could see them standing and waiting in the silence, and even though it would seem my presence there had been accepted---no matter how grudgingly---, I still felt like the odd one out. I wasn't worried about being the only female in the group, as I had grown up training with boys and girls, men and women, for the better part of my life. The only thing that worried me was my acceptance into the group. Hopefully, once we had settled after leaving Rivendell, the offering of my sword and service would better my reputation.

Although it was dark, I could sense the silent acceptance and command to move forward. I chose to stick by Bilbo as we went along. I felt eyes on me and had no doubt that I was being studied by different members of the company, perhaps wondering what I was doing there at all (unless they had all been informed, and not just their leader). In any case, I expected to face some level of explaining to do once we were clear of Rivendell.

* * *

By the time we stopped, the sun had risen into an early morning position. I was surprised to look back and see how much ground we had covered, which seemed quite a long way to me. Thorin said we wouldn't be stopped here for long, only just for a short while of rest before we continued. I had taken a seat next to Bilbo on the grass but hadn't been for long when I heard my name being called.

I looked up to see that Thorin Oakenshield had called me over, just across the way. I got back up and walked over to him, where he stood with the Dwarf with the white beard and hair whom I had first seen at Lord Elrond's table that first day. I bowed to Thorin, nodding my greeting to the other Dwarf before raising back to full height.

“You fought bravely against the Orcs,” Thorin began. “You gave us time to make our escape from them, and for that, I thank you.”

“I am pleased to have provided my services,” I said

“Both Gandalf and Lord Elrond believed you could be of service to us on this quest, which is why you are here,” Thorin continued. “Before we continue on any further, I thought it wise to discuss the conditions of your traveling with us on this journey.”

“Conditions?” I asked with furrowed brow.

“I was under the impression that you were not to sign a contract, and that you would only pledge your services until you decided otherwise. As you probably know from the Elf, none in our company has any such conditions. They are here to the end, and do not plan to leave before we see Erebor retaken. My question is why you would offer only part of your time and services to a journey that still has a long way to go?”

He even sounded like a king. I felt scolded, but reminded myself that these were Lord Elrond's words, and not mine. Now was my time to act for myself.

“Forgive me, but those words only left Lord Elrond's mouth, and not my own. After he had told me about joining the company, I found how unfair it would be for me to stay with you and your company until my whims distracted me. You see, I have been on a journey to find a new home for myself, but you still must fight for yours. Lord Elrond's idea was that, perhaps, I would find my home on this journey, and would only fight with you until I found it. However, I did not inform him of my decision to pledge myself fully to this task, as I intend to now do.”

I carefully unsheathed my sword, then knelt on one knee before Thorin. I held my sword in my hands, presenting it to him with open palms as I bowed my head in respect.

“I, Caila, daughter of Fen, son of Alodal, do pledge my sword and service to Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King Under the Mountain, to his kin, and his company. May I ever be of service by this oath until I am released from it by the command of the King Under the Mountain, or until death claims me.”

To be honest, I wasn't sure I was even saying the right words. It sounded alright to me, very formal and honest, without being too much. It was my first oath, and now as I kept my head bowed, I hoped that it was enough. The silence made me nervous, and I was fully prepared to expect some sort of reprimand, to be told I had said it all wrong, or that it was just unacceptable.

Thankfully, I heard none of that. Instead, Thorin's voice sounded a bit amused, yet he kept his tone regal all the same.

“I accept your oath, Caila, daughter of Fen, son of Alodal,” he said, gently closing my fingers over my sword. “May you act with valor and honor for so long as you are bound in service to those you have pledged to protect.”

I withheld a sigh of relief and raised my head to see the white-haired Dwarf nod approvingly at me. I stood to full height again, putting my sword back in its sheath and feeling a sense of accomplishment. Thorin also nodded once at me, and I answered with a nod of my own to both Dwarves, an appreciative smile on my face.

“Have you ever given an oath before, Caila?” The white-haired Dwarf asked kindly.

“I must be honest, Master Dwarf, I have never given an oath in my life,” I replied.

“Please, call me Balin,” he replied with a smile. “Perhaps you would like to know the names of the other members of the company?”

With that, Balin introduced me to the other Dwarves. There was his brother, Dwalin, who looked like a very experienced warrior, who nodded to me in greeting. Then there were Bofur, Bombur, and Bifur, followed by Fíli and Kíli. There were also Dori, Nori, and Ori, and finally there were Óin and Gloin. They all seemed very friendly, and apparently, they had all watched me make my oath, as they seemed to have a respect for me in greeting. I was glad to know that, at least in that respect, I was a welcome addition to the company.

“And finally, this is our company's burglar, Bilbo Baggins,” Balin said as we stood before the Hobbit.

“We have met before,” Bilbo said with a kind smile.

“A burglar, you say?” I asked out of curiosity. “Master Baggins and I have talked about many things, but he did not mention being a thief.”

“Well, I'm not a burglar, not really,” Bilbo answered quickly. “For this, I am, but normally---”

“Bilbo's task on this journey is to retrieve something of ours from the dragon in the mountain,” Balin interjected.

Now, I was curious. “May I ask what that would be?”

“That would be the Arkenstone,” Balin replied, lowering his voice. “It is also called The King's Jewel and has been the possession of the King Under the Mountain since Thorin's grandfather ruled in Erebor. It is hidden somewhere in the treasure that Smaug has been hoarding, and Bilbo is tasked with finding it. With the Arkenstone in Thorin's possession, he would be in a position to call upon the seven Dwarf armies to destroy the dragon and reclaim Erebor.”

I nodded as I took in this new information. I held back my questions so that I wouldn't seem too prying. How did they expect Bilbo to just walk into the mountain's treasure trove and retrieve an elusive gem, all without waking up a dragon? It was then I remembered my mother telling me that Hobbits could sneak past most anything and anyone unseen if they wanted to. Maybe they thought he could evade Smaug? I didn't doubt that Bilbo was more than capable, but it seemed a daunting task, and I felt scared for him. I tried not to let my distress on Bilbo's behalf reach my expression and was able to look totally neutral about the issue. However, my heart was still troubled.


	6. The Worth of the Burglar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dangerous and scary moment leads to Caila realizing trust doesn't run deep when emotions run high.

We began our journey again after a short rest, and I marveled at the changing scenery as we went along. It was amazing to see the visible changes in nature as we left Rivendell farther behind us and went on to the lands beyond. Now, there were mountains before us, our feet encountering rougher and rockier terrain. I could feel the air begin to chill, and the sun was less visible as cloud cover spread itself across the skies. I had continued to stay close to Bilbo, who didn't seem to mind it.

“Do you know which mountains these are, Master Baggins?” I asked him in a soft voice, not wanting to sound to the rest of the company like a dumb individual.

“I would say these are the Misty Mountains,” Bilbo replied, seeming to harbor none of the sentiment I had feared would come from my question.

“The Misty Mountains,” I whispered again to myself, looking up at them. They were a magnificent sight to behold, but I had to remember that other creatures probably lurked here, and I had to keep my guard up.

I began to feel apprehension as we climbed ever higher, the air becoming colder and the wind picking up more speed. As day wore on into night, I and the rest of the company were concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, conscious of the steep drop on one side of the mountainside we were crossing. I kept stealing glances upward and around, paranoid that something was going to happen, as if by instinct. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to keep my breathing in check, trying to ground myself. I couldn't, and wouldn't, let fear get the best of me, especially not when we were crossing such uncertain terrain. I gripped the hilt of my sword, although I didn't realize at the time that it was one of the most nonsensical things I could have done.

In the next few moments, a few things happened, seemingly all at once.

Bilbo looked over at me as if to ask if I was alright, and his foot slipped.

A couple of the Dwarves reached out and caught him.

I thought the sky had been ripped apart, producing the loud, earth-shattering crash that sent shock waves through my body.

No, it was much worse than that. When I looked up, I realized that the sound had not been the sky splitting apart, but rock. A humongous boulder sailed through the air and collided with the rocky face of the mountain above us. I pressed myself against the mountain and shielded myself as best I could from the falling debris, shaken and wondering where that boulder had come from. I heard Balin shout the words _thunder battle_ , and Bofur yelled something about _stone giants_ , followed by Thorin shouting. As if on cue, a stone giant rose to its full height before throwing another huge boulder at our mountain. Again, we pressed ourselves to the mountain to avoid falling debris, and I shut my eyes tightly.

A great tremor ran under my feet, and with plummeting heart, I realized why. We were standing on the knees of another stone giant, one awakened to take part in the so-called thunder battle. As the giant rose to stand, I reached behind me for any part of the rock to hold on to and gripped as tightly to it as I could. As if the situation couldn't get any worse, I watched as Fíli and Kíli were separated, along with half of the company.

Thankfully, our knee soon hit a point in the mountain path across from us, and my half of the company quickly crossed over onto it and off the stone giant's knee. However, the other half of our number was still struggling to hang on to the other knee, and I eyed the distance between them and the mountainside just ahead of us with anxiety.

Suddenly, another boulder soared through the air, decapitating the stone giant they were on. With horror, I watched as it collapsed, its occupied knee slamming against the ledge I had been anxious about. I heard Thorin's yell into the abyss as it happened, as if in slow motion, and all I could feel was shock. _No, this is not happening_ , I thought to myself, fighting to find reason. _They're not dead, they can't be. I've just met them...we can't have lost this many in one go, and so soon!_

I forced my feet to move as we ran, carefully as to mind the steep drop to our right, to investigate what we were dreading to find. However, the relief of tension was palpable as I, with the rest of my half of the company saw the other half of our number, alive on the ledge where I feared they had been smashed to death. Relieved cries filled the air, and I let my own anxieties even out.

“Where's Bilbo?”

Just like that, my fear returned. Sure enough, he was not right beside me, as he had been the whole time before. It didn't take long for me to spot him precariously hanging over the cliff's edge, a wide-eyed look of fear on his face.

“Over here!” I shouted.

I carefully made my way to him, pressing myself to the ground and reaching out for him.

“Grab my hand!” I called out to him through the wind.

He reached but was unable to grab hold of my hand the first time. I readjusted to grasp his wrist, then used by other hand to steady me as I began to try lifting him. Although I was able to bring him up a couple of inches, my arm was already shaking from the effort as his hand now held tightly to my wrist. I gritted my teeth, trying to ease my weight to my knees, but it was harder than I thought it would be. One wrong move, and I feared I would fall into the abyss with him, killing us both.

“I need help to pull him up!” I called out to anyone who could hear me.

Immediately, I felt hands grip my arm, and arms encircle my waist, and I was being drawn backwards. When I was able to, I held on to Bilbo's arm with my now free hand, now able to pull him up much easier with help. At last, he was on the edge again, and I let go of his arm as whoever helped me loosed their holds and let me sit down heavily.

“Are you alright, Master Baggins?” I asked, trying to catch my breath as I looked over to him.

All he could do was nod in the affirmative, but that was all I needed. I shakily exhaled, glad to have avoided the loss of Bilbo so soon after thinking that our company had been reduced by half.

“I thought we had lost our burglar!” I heard Dwalin say with relief.

“He has been lost since he left home,” I heard Thorin say harshly. “He should never have come.”

My exhaustion turned to confusion and anger as I looked to our leader, whose expression was as stony as his demeanor. I couldn't believe he was serious! Bilbo had nearly lost his life, and he had been chosen to join the company for a vital mission in their journey, and _he_ was the one to blame for almost dying? I looked to Bilbo, his feelings clear on his face, and I felt something sink inside me with sadness. I knew how he longed for the comforts of his home, as he had told me such when I had asked him to tell me about the Shire.

As the rest of the company moved forward to try finding a cave to take shelter in for the night, I stood by Bilbo, who was now also upright, to try assuring him that Thorin couldn't have possibly meant what he said. For a few critical moments, he had thought his heirs and other kin were dead, and that emotion was what led him to speak so harshly to Bilbo. However, I withheld my words when I could tell he wasn't prepared to talk it over, seemingly still in a state of dejection from what Thorin had said about him. We joined the others in silence, taking shelter in a cave that Dwalin had scouted out while I had delayed joining them.


	7. To the Depths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the ground literally opens under Caila's feet, all is thrown into chaos and resolve is tested.

Bofur had been commanded by Thorin to take the first watch while the rest of us rested, but I couldn't sleep. I tried to close my eyes and will myself to go to sleep, but every time I tried it, my ears remembered the crashing of rock, and my mind replayed the moment when I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to save Bilbo. Such imagery was what sent my eyes fluttering open each time, and after a while, I decided it was useless to continue trying to sleep.

It didn't help that I was still angry with Thorin over his treatment of Bilbo, either. Half of the company came close to dying, and their places within the company weren't questioned, but Bilbo nearly falls to his death and he is judged? It shouldn't have mattered that he came from a comfortable home, only that he left it to help Thorin and his kin reclaim their homeland. I wasn't too sure that Thorin understood that, or if he just outright dismissed it in favor of his own prejudices. Was it because Bilbo wasn't a Dwarf like everyone else, besides myself and the absent Wizard?

I folded my arms, jaw clenched as I tried to reign in my emotions. In truth, there was nothing I could do, and even if I tried to make Thorin see reason, my reputation was not of one who interrupted the slumber of others so selfishly. Plus, seeing as I was the newest addition to the group, I felt I was in little to no position to sway him on any matter, be it important or not. It was frustrating to come to terms with the battle raging inside my own head, but I did it regardless.

I stilled as I heard movement. It was quiet and purposeful, and for a few frightening seconds, I thought something had sneaked in past Bofur and was going to kill, rob, or maim us. However, the movement ceased briefly, then walked away, toward the mouth of the cave. I relaxed, reasoning that it had been a Dwarf volunteering the second watch so Bofur could rest. Instead, I heard Bofur whisper to the same someone, his tone one of disbelief, and I strained my ears to listen.

It was Bilbo. From the sound of their conversation, I gathered that he was leaving. I heard the kind Dwarf attempt to persuade the Hobbit into staying, but Bilbo had resolved to leave, saying he didn't belong there. There was a moment when he said that the Dwarves didn't belong anywhere, and the silence that followed made me hold my breath. However, Bofur's response was resigned, if not a bit sad, as he allowed what Bilbo had said, even though the Hobbit had apologized. Despite myself, I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes as the Dwarf wished Bilbo all the luck in the world, and perhaps my tears would have fallen if it hadn't been followed by him asking what something was.

His tone had alerted me to something amiss before my hearing detected a familiar keening sound. I looked down at my own sword and froze---the blade was blue. In my rush to secure my pack and sword, I couldn't understand what Thorin was shouting about until it was too late. No sooner than I saw sand falling through a crack that split the floor of the cave in two, we were sent falling into an awaiting chasm.

I could not hold back my screaming as we fell, taking twist after turn surrounded by a tunnel carved into the mountain. Soon, a faint light grew closer, and the lot of us fell onto a wooden platform of sorts. Before I had a chance to figure out where we were, I heard the most terrible screeches and shrieks approach us quickly, and suddenly we were being pulled and prodded and pushed onward. When I got a good look at our captors, I realized we were now at the mercy of Goblins, and from the looks of where we had landed, it stood to reason we were now in their settlement.

I was kicked and pushed into standing at full height, and my legs were pushed to move faster as we were hurried along unceremoniously by the repulsive Goblins. I tried to look around for Bilbo, but I couldn't see him. Had he stepped outside the cave just before we fell in? Worse yet, had he somehow slipped off the edge of the wooden platform and fell farther down into the emptiness below? I prayed to whomever was listening that he was safe, wherever he had gone to.

We were ushered a fair distance before coming to face what was easily the most repulsive creature I had seen in all my life. A giant Goblin sat on a crude throne and rose to sing a most disturbing song with the Goblins surrounding us, and I was loath to be forced to listen to it. I reckoned that the Dwarves would prefer Elven songs to what they now heard. When we all stopped moving, I went to my knees, as I had been pushed down by the grubby hands of the Goblins behind me.

When the Great Goblin commanded that we be searched, I was expecting to be prodded at and robbed of my belongings, but I was barely touched. I guessed that they didn't think I had anything of worth to be robbed of, and right then I was very thankful for my cloak. In the rush of everything, I hadn't noticed that my hood was back on my head, and I made no move to remove it.

I never wished for any person to shut their mouth, as much as I wanted the so-called Great Goblin to do so. The self-righteous creature recognized Thorin, calling him King Under the Mountain and making a mocking bow to humiliate him. He went on to ridicule him by proclaiming he had no mountain to be king of, and even though I was still angry about how Thorin had treated Bilbo, this made me angrier, not to mentioned annoyed.

I honestly tried to ignore what the huge creature before us went on about, but I couldn't help but pay full attention to it when it said someone would pay a price for just Thorin's head. I would readily admit that it didn't seem he was very easy to deal with, but who could have such ill will toward him, this mysterious _old friend_ , as the Great Goblin had worded it? I watched as he relayed the message about having captured Thorin to a much smaller Goblin, who penned the message before speeding away in a suspended wooden chair-like device. I had no time to consider the repercussions of the exchange before the Great Goblin's voice drawled yet again.

“And what do we have here?” The Great Goblin asked with mock curiosity. “One of those gathered with you is not your kin!”

I felt someone's hand on my shoulder, as if telling me not to stand. I didn't look around to see who had done it so I wouldn't draw more attention to myself, and I kept my head low.

“Ah, _Thorin_!” The Great Goblin called out loudly, as if pleased to figure something out all on its own. “You travel with a _woman_ , do you? Would she claim to be _Queen_ Under the Mountain?” He jeered, causing his subjects to snicker and cackle around us.

I could only guess what Thorin's reaction to the insinuation that I was his wife looked like, if he had a reaction at all. I fought to keep my expression neutral, even though my face was still hidden by my hood. The only answer was silence, which apparently didn't please the Goblins' king. Suddenly, I felt the rough handling of Goblins on my person, forcing me forward and up to my full height. One Goblin had managed to pull back the hood of my cloak, leaving my expression vulnerable. Although I was terrified, I tried to look strong. After all, the only thing taller than me was the Great Goblin...which, admittedly, provided much less comfort than I hoped it would.

“And who would _this_ be? A woman from the race of Men? What use would a Dwarf have with a daughter of Man?” The Great Goblin jeered again. My skin crawled at the insinuation he made.

I initially assumed the question had either been rhetorical, or meant for the Dwarves, but in any case, it would seem my silence angered the Great Goblin yet again.

“Bring her forward!” He commanded.

I could feel Goblins pushing on my legs and tugging at the hem of my cloak, removing me from the Dwarves, some of whom I felt were trying to keep me with them. However, I couldn't fight them off, and allowed myself to be led to the front to face the Goblin king.

“What, are you _mute_?” He taunted. “I didn't know you were fond of the dumb, Thorin Oakenshield!”

“I can speak!” I said defiantly, looking up at the Great Goblin.

“That, you can,” he acknowledged. “I will ask again, what skills have these Dwarves hired you for?”

My skin crawled yet again. I did not like what he was insinuating, and I clenched my jaw in anger.

“Well? I'm _waiting_!”

“Whatever skills I may possess that should help the King Under the Mountain are only the business of him and his kin, and no one else,” I replied with an edge to my voice, doing my best to keep my voice from shaking as I tried to seem bold and confident.

“From where do you come?” The Great Goblin asked with a smirk.

“I come from the southern lands,” I replied vaguely. “My name is Caila, daughter of Fen, son of Alodal.”

“Well, Caila, daughter of Fen, whatever purpose you serve the company of Thorin Oakenshield, I've just thought of a new one for you.”

He then called out the names of a couple of unpleasantly-named torture devices, and I swallowed hard. I felt a kick behind my knees, sending me into a kneeling position, and then was dragged by my arms closer to the Great Goblin. I was turned to face the company, my arms held out from me by two Goblins, my knees stinging under my pants. I heard the immense Goblin behind me break into another song about the torture devices, and even though I didn't want to meet the eyes of the Dwarves, I looked up at them despite myself.

Most were being held back by uncaring Goblins, protesting my torture vehemently. Others looked on with fear or worry, and then there were a couple that were trying to remain composed despite the circumstances. When I met the glance of Thorin Oakenshield, I noticed that his jaw was clenched, his eyes full of disdain until he realized I was looking at him. I was scared out of my wits, but I tried to apologize through look alone, to say sorry for being at the mercy of these foul creatures. I could hear the wooden wheels of the devices creaking ever closer, and I broke my gaze at Thorin to shut my eyes tightly and bow my head.

“Perhaps you will be more willing to tell me what you are doing, sneaking around in my kingdom, if this one screams a little first!” The Great Goblin laughed without mercy, clearly enjoying himself.

I fought to keep calm, my arms beginning to hurt. The Goblins holding me still may have been small, but they were stronger than I thought they would be. Although I tugged and tried, the Goblins only gripped my arms tighter, and I bit back a pained noise that was ready to leave my mouth. I had to seem strong through my fear, refusing to give the vile creatures the satisfaction. I didn't know how long I could withstand the torture, but if I could help it, I would do my utmost to be as strong as possible, even then.

“Let her go!”

I raised my head at Thorin's shout. It seemed to have surprised, everyone, even the Great Goblin.

“Let her go? Now, why would I do that?” The Great Goblin asked.

“Even you must have more honor than this,” Thorin went on, taking a step forward. “Torturing a woman is vile. It speaks to your character, that you would stoop so low!”

“Oh, but this is where you are wrong, Thorin Oakenshield,” The Great Goblin jeered. “She means something to you, and to many who are here with you. Making her scream, and knowing you will be kept from helping her? Why, that's what makes this _fun_!”

Whatever resolve I had left dissolved quickly. I was going to be tortured for the entertainment of our captors, and since I knew Thorin and the others wouldn't give up information, it was guaranteed that this would end badly for me.

“You cannot reason with these creatures, Thorin!” I called out, my head still down. “They would not know what honor was if it struck them in the face!”

“She is defiant!” The Great Goblin laughed. “This will make torturing you so much more _enjoyable_!”

I struggled harder against the Goblins that were holding me, no longer wanting to resign myself to their torture. I was not about to become some Goblin's plaything, something that could be stretched and broken just for a laugh. I would not put the Dwarves through that, and I certainly would not stand for it.

I pushed my knees out from under me so that my legs were now in front of me, like I was sitting on the floor. I drew my knees closer to my chest before planting my feet and quickly standing to full height. With a bit more difficulty, I withdrew my arms from the Goblins' hold, kicking each one down to finally be free. I quickly sidestepped and spun, and when I was still once again, I was wielding my sword.

“Why is she armed?!” The Great Goblin roared. “Take it from her, bind her, tie her down!”

As Goblins began to approach me, I swung my sword around, leveling the tip of the blade just within their line of sight. To my surprise, it was enough to stop them. They took one look at my blade and backed away, although I couldn't tell if it was because they were afraid or not.

“What are you waiting for?” The Great Goblin demanded. “Take it from---”

Suddenly, there was a bright blast of light, and I fell, still holding my blade. For a few moments, there was only darkness, and nothing moved. However, as the light came back, I could clearly see the outline of a pointed hat, of a robed figure with a staff---Gandalf.

“Take up arms,” he told the Dwarves. “Fight. Fight!”

I was never so glad to see Gandalf as I was in that moment. Without needing another call to action, I stood up with my sword and rejoined the company. They retrieved their weapons, and then we fought together. My blade hadn't found many Goblin bodies before the group began to run down a path behind the throne, and I followed them.

We jumped between sections of bridge, and I kept at the back of the company to keep some of the Goblins off our tail. I had tunnel vision, following the Dwarves and Gandalf without thinking much about what I was doing. I continued to run, swing my sword about, and then run, jump, and repeat. It seemed like we were safe, until the Great Goblin suddenly appeared right in our way. However, Gandalf took care of him quickly, and his body fell over the side. Unfortunately, the bridge was already compromised, and I felt a jolting under my feet as the wood begin to splinter. I held on to what I could as tightly as I could manage, and again I unashamedly screamed the whole way down.

We landed hard, debris and company mixed together in a pile. I let go and allowed myself to roll off of what remained of the section of bridge and made to catch my breath. Inevitably, someone--Bofur--- made the comment that the situation could have been worse...then the corpse of the Great Goblin landed on top of the pile, eliciting moans among those still trying to work themselves from the pile. I helped whoever let me, and when everyone was free, we thought we were finally free.

“Gandalf!”

It had been Kíli who had shouted, pointing at a point behind us. I turned quickly to see a horde of Goblins fast approaching, and without a moment more of rest, we began to run again. We sped through dark, narrow tunnels, although this time I had sheathed my sword so I could run faster. Thankfully, there was sunlight ahead, and we headed straight for it. Sunshine had never felt so beautiful as it did when we finally made it outside, but we had to keep moving. We continued down the decline until the ground evened out a bit, and as I passed Gandalf I heard him doing a head count of our company.

“Bilbo? Where is Bilbo? Where is our Hobbit?”

I stopped short at Gandalf's question, realizing that Bilbo wasn't with the rest of us. Where was he? I had hoped he would catch up with us at some point, that he would be here by now. I sat on a rock heavily, not wanting to believe he had fallen over the side of the wooden platform and into nothingness.

“I tried to see him, Gandalf, but when I looked, he was not there,” I replied, staring at the ground in confusion, and on the edge of sorrow.

My head snapped up when I heard the first word that perhaps Bilbo had abandoned the company. What surprised me more was that the sentiment was echoed amongst a fair amount of them. I refused to believe he was dead, but even more so refused that he would leave us.

“What if he fell?” I asked, my voice faltering a bit. “Maybe he was pushed over by a Goblin, perhaps...maybe there was a misstep when he was fighting one off, long after we had been captured! Just because he is not here, does not mean he has abandoned us.”

“Master Baggins saw his chance and took it,” Thorin said resolutely. “ _*some other dialogue before this including leaving his home*_ We will not be seeing our Hobbit again. He is long gone.”

My anger at Thorin's treatment of Bilbo returned, but before I could say anything, a very merciful turn of events intervened---Bilbo's voice cut through the tension. I had been right to keep my faith in him, and a smile spread across my face. I couldn't bring myself to ask him the questions that the others asked, like how he got past the Goblins, although Gandalf said it didn't matter. That didn't mean that Thorin didn't want to know, though. He wanted to know why the Hobbit had returned to them, and the answer that Bilbo gave enforced my faith in him further.

He knew his home was in the Shire, with his garden, his armchair, and his books. It was where he belonged, but he came back because the Dwarves didn't belong anywhere, because their home was taken from them. He said he would do what he could to help them get it back, and silence followed. I looked around at the faces of the Dwarves, who despite the sadness of being reminded of what had been taken from them, seemed to see Bilbo in a new light. Maybe now they would understand just how much he had given up, not because he was forced to, but because he knew it was for a worthy cause.

However, there was very little time to revel in joy, for soon the sun began to set and a great roar sounded in the air. We all looked up and around ourselves, until my eyes settled on something terrifying---Orcs riding beasts, as I had seen the first time I had encountered the company, now were making quick work of descending the mountainside, right for us.

“Out of the frying pan---”

“---and into the fire. Run!”

I ran away with the others, toward tall trees near the cliff's edge. Upon hearing Gandalf call for us to get into the trees, a part of me sank. I was never good at climbing trees, not even as a child. I was certainly allowed to, but all that would result were scratches on my belly and tears in my eyes. However, I knew that I needed to try, and my life literally depended an ability I failed at as a child.

I made for a tree with a low-sitting branch and jumped up to grab on. It took me a second try before I was able to do so, and then I began to try pulling the rest of my body onto that one branch. After that, I tried for the next branch, and the branch after that, until I was high enough off the ground to not be a possible target for the beasts and their riders. I held on to the trunk tightly, trying to not look down, but instead look to the other trees. I had to squint, but I was able to pick out the shapes of Dwarves in a couple of the trees surrounding me, and inevitably my sight moved to take note of our pursuers.

The beasts without riders were jumping as high as they could under my tree and the others as well, nipping in hopes of bringing us down from our perches. At the head of the group was an Orc paler than I had ever seen, and I saw that, where one of his forearms should have been, there was a hook-like weapon _pierced through it_. He had to be the scariest-looking of them all. Had this been the “old friend” that would have paid to have just Thorin's head? I couldn't understand what he was saying, but it sounded terrible. The language itself felt so violent and dark, a fitting tongue for such a creature, I thought.

My focus was suddenly stolen as my tree began to move. I swallowed hard before looking down and realized with a fright that my tree was being felled. I looked to a tree directly ahead, gauging the distance between the two, and bit back a curse as I readied myself to jump. I wasn't sure I would make it, but the roughness of bark on my hands after soaring the short distance assured me otherwise. Thankfully, I hadn't landed on anyone. However, this new tree was attacked not moments later, and I picked out another tree to jump to. At this rate, it would seem everyone had the same idea, and we were all going to be in one tree---right on the cliff's edge.

When I jumped into that tree, I held on tight, gazing with fear at the gathering force of Orcs. My attention was grabbed by a streak of...fire? Yes, it was fire! I looked up just in time to see Gandalf use magic to light a pine cone ablaze before dropping it to a Dwarf below, who then threw it down. By the time this stopped, there was a ring of fire around our tree, clearly marking the boundary between us and the attacking force. There were triumphant cheers, but that didn't last long.

Our joy was quickly replaced by fear as I heard the tree began to groan, felt it lean from the weight of us all along its height. I held on tighter to the tree as it started to fall, and a stone sank into my stomach when I could see the darkness below us. I swallowed hard as I watched a section of branch fall to the ground far below. Surely, there were trees there, but it was still a great height to drop from. Soon, the tree was held on by only a few strong roots and was otherwise completely downed. I stayed as still as I could, not wanting to jostle the tree and risk us falling to our deaths. I closed my eyes tightly, sending out another silent prayer on our behalf to anyone who was listening.

My eyes shot wide open as I felt some movement down the tree. Although it was hard for me to see well from where I was, I could see someone removing himself from the tree, wielding a sword as he stepped foot on land and began to advance on the Pale Orc---Thorin. What was he thinking? He was going into that fight _alone_? No, absolutely not.

I carefully moved about until I was able to shimmy my way toward the end of the tree, but just as I was about to right myself, I saw the Pale Orc and his white beast leap over Thorin, and the Dwarf king fell. _No, he will not die, not here. Not on some forsaken mountainside, to Orcs!_

I was rooted where I was as I watched the Pale Orc swing at him with another weapon, and I could hear Balin's cry in the night. My blood ran cold at the sight of Thorin in the beast's jaws, then being thrown off to the side. Soon, someone did come to his aid---Bilbo. I was surprised, seeing as I hadn't noticed him move from the tree to the ground. But sure enough, there he stood between Thorin, who had been released from the beast's mouth and dropped, and the Pale Orc. He swung his small sword around at the beast, seeing as he couldn't see over the beast's skull. The gap between them was closing, and I knew I had to act.

I sprang to my feet and jumped from the tree, hitting the ground running. I unsheathed my sword, holding tight to the hilt as I ran toward our attackers. I pierced the side of a beast, and by the time it fell, I had been joined by several members of the company, each brandishing their own weapons. Feeling that the odds were in our favor, I grinned widely, already feeling triumphant. I spun, stabbed, jumped, slashed, and downed Orc and ridden beast alike one after another, and as I looked about, it seemed the others were having the same luck.

A shriek drew my eyes skyward, and I could hardly believe my eyes. There were huge birds flying above us, swooping in to sweep Orcs from the cliff. I would call them eagles, but I had never seen them get that big before. However, if they were helping our cause, I wasn't about to question what they were, especially when they began to rescue members of the company from the fiery battleground. I saw one of them carefully pick up Thorin and its sword in its talons, but he didn't react to being lifted. I hoped beyond hope that he would wake.

My distraction would prove disastrous. When I turned around, there was an armed Orc behind me, and it lunged at me. I moved out of the way, holding my sword out before me as I regained my footing. No sooner than I had done that, it charged me again, and I swung my sword as it brought down its knife. I felt my sword stick in its hide as a sharp, burning pain bloomed across my abdomen.

With a scream, I pulled my sword from the Orc, and it stumbled backward before falling over dead. I sheathed my sword before hesitantly looking over to see the wound. There was a line cut through my shirt where my bodice didn't protect my torso as well, and I withdrew my hand from it only to see crimson on my palm. The sight of it, as well as the blood loss, left me dizzy, and I stumbled back before promptly falling to my knees, then falling to my side.

I closed my eyes, the last sound I heard sounding like a cry in the night, before I succumbed to darkness.


	8. On Strangers Becoming Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caila awakes in the care of strangers, and is met with an unexpected connection to the past.

I woke to the sound of a small fire, to the feel of a bedroll under me and the coolness of shade on my skin. I furrowed my brow in confusion, because these things were not local to that mountainside where I had fallen. Where was I?

“Good, you're awake!” I heard an older female's voice say. “Try not to move too much. You're still a bit tender around the stitches.”

The woman had very curly hair, and was from the race of Men, as I was. She was kneeling in front of a small campfire, over which was a suspended black pot. She stirred its contents before putting the lid back on.

“Where am I?” I asked, looking around. We were outside, yes, but there were some green patches of grass here and there along the land. There was a small tent nearby, as well as a makeshift clothesline, on which hung my shirt. Looking down, I saw I was wearing a borrowed shirt.

“You're in the care of Thira and Nilol,” she replied with a kindly smile. “I would be Thira, and my husband is Nilol. My husband found you near the Misty Mountains whilst hunting and brought you here to our camp when he saw you were wounded.”

I nodded as I took in all the information. “Thank you, both of you,” I said, carefully sitting up.

I lifted my shirt to see the wound, and sure enough, it was held together tightly with stitches. It wasn't that long, and from the way it felt, I didn't think it went very deep.

“That would be Nilol's handiwork,” Thira beamed. “When he doesn't hunt, he heals, and does a mighty fine job of it.”

“I must thank him when I am able to properly meet him,” I said with a grateful smile. “Where exactly are these lands?”

“We're just a ways from Mirkwood,” Thira replied. “It's not the safest place, but we had been traveling for a long while before you were found. That cut of yours needed immediate attention, and this was the best we could manage.”

Thira lifted the lid of the pot again, and after stirring, removed the spoon to retrieve a ladle. She put some of what was in the pot in a bowel, then handed it to me with a spoon.

“Thank you, Thira,” I said before sampling the food, which tasted amazing

“You're young to be out on your own,” Thira noted, ladling the contents of the pot into a bowl of her own. “Do you mind my asking how you got the cut?”

I looked down at my bowl. “I was traveling with a company---one Wizard, a Hobbit, and the rest being Dwarves. We had escaped the Goblins in the mountain, only to be attacked by Orcs. I was wounded in the fight, although it seemed to have long since been won.”

Thira listened on, nodding sympathetically. “Where was your company?”

“They were being rescued,” I remembered. “Lifted into the air to safety by giant birds, the likes of which I have never seen before in my life. Surely, they are now somewhere safe, although I know not where.”

Remembering I hadn't introduced myself, I looked back up at Thira. “My name is Caila, by the way.”

“That's a beautiful name,” Thira complimented me. After a brief pause, she continued. “You seem to miss them.”

I found myself nodding before I knew what I was doing. “I swore an oath to defend them, to fight with them until their journey came to a close.”

“Do you know where they would be now, if you know where you were headed?”

I thought about it for a moment, then shook my head. “We were making for Erebor.”

“Then you may be in luck!” Thira said enthusiastically. “The road through Mirkwood should provide a good start.”

“You know the way?” I asked Thira, my hopes soaring.

“Well, to an extent,” Thira admitted. “You can't lose your way, though! Always mind the marked path, unless you wish to encounter the Elves of the Woodland Realm.”

She didn't look too pleased to utter the name. “I take it that these Elves don't have a very good reputation?”

Thira shook her head. “They are fierce and unforgiving, much more dangerous than the others. As their trees have been poisoned by darkness, so have their hearts. Even without meaning them harm, they will treat you as if that is your intention.”

I nodded as I listened, doing well to remember Thira's words. I fully intended on rejoining the company, only hoping that they weren't too far away. When I heard footsteps approaching, I looked up to see a man with dark hair lock eyes with Thira, and I assumed that this was her husband, Nilol.

“You're awake,” he said upon seeing me. “I told Thira that you would last the night.”

“Oh Nilol, I never said she wouldn't last the night!” Thira said, hitting her husband's knee playfully with a rag. “And I never doubt your ability to patch the wounded up, good as new.”

“How are you feeling?” He asked me.

“Very well, thank you,” I replied with a smile. “Were it not for your hunter's eyes, I would have probably been at the mercy of creatures that are far less kind.”

“My name is Nilol, son of Garol, son of Forren,” he introduced himself. “What would your name be?”

“I am Caila, daughter of Fen, son of Alodal,” I said, exchanging title for title.

A look of curiosity came across his face, and Nilol folded his arms. “Your father wouldn't happen to be Fen, son of Alodal, son of Gaor, would he?”

The name of my great-grandfather was hard to remember, but I recalled it after a moment of consideration. “The exact same man. Did you know my father?”

“As I live and breathe,” Nilol murmured.

Thira prepared a bowl of food for her husband, which she handed to him as he sat on a nearby log. “Is this the same Fen that you told me about, Nilol?” She asked him.

He nodded, then turned to me. “Caila, I knew your father when we were both boys. For a time, we were practically raised together. When we saw each other again, he was traveling to Rivendell. I accompanied him for as long as I was able, then waited for him to be done with his business concerning the Elves and journeyed with him for a while on his return trip. We spoke of our wives, and he told me about a very eager daughter of his waiting for him at home. He was bringing back a gift for her, a sword of Elvish make.”

Subconsciously, my hand found the hilt of my sword, my thumb running over its surface. The gesture did not escape his notice.

“It does my heart well to see that he returned home safely, and that his gift now protects you,” Nilol said with a smile. “Tell me, how is he doing?”

I stilled, then put my bowl and spoon on a flat rock by my feet. I folded my hands together, unsure of how to break the news to him.

“Master Nilol, I...my father has been gone for four years, now,” I said quietly. “There was a storm, and he was taken by it, along with my mother. I have been on my own since after I helped rebuild the village. I'm very sorry to have to tell you this.”

Nilol and Thira shared a glance, and she put a comforting hand on his knee. He visibly relaxed at her touch, even though you could tell he was still trying to process the news. I never had it for myself, but I could recognize the love they shared, and it warmed my heart to see them. At the same time, I felt like I was intruding on a moment, so I averted my eyes.

“I am sorry that you had to suffer such a great loss,” Nilol said after a few moments.

“She seems to be doing quite well, though,” Thira said to him. “She was telling me she was there defending a group she swore an oath to protect.”

“A sellsword?” Nilol asked me.

“Oh no, I expect no payment,” I assured him. “I offered my sword and service to them because I sympathized with their cause.”

“What might that be?”

“I was headed to The Lonely Mountain with a Wizard, a Hobbit, and thirteen Dwarves,” I explained.

“And do you plan to rejoin them?” Nilol asked out of curiosity.

I nodded. “I'm alive and have not been released from my oath. I must rejoin them somehow.”

Nilol smiled kindly. “Fen raised you right, just as I thought he would. More honor than a heart could hold, and maturity beyond your years.”

I nodded my thanks, unsure of what to say. There were so many questions I could ask Nilol about my father, such as what he was like as a boy, but I didn't want to get too emotional. It had been hard to accept that my parents were gone, and while I allowed myself to mourn sometimes, I tried to keep my composure as if there wasn't turmoil in my heart. If I let myself go now, I would never stop asking, never stop laughing, never stop crying, and I would never stop wishing I had heard the stories firsthand from my father.

“Thira said taking the road through Mirkwood would set me on the right track to Erebor,” I said, changing the subject.

“That is the route you would take, and I suppose she has already warned you to be cautious, yes?”

I nodded, casting a glance at a smiling Thira. “She did. I will do my utmost to stay out of trouble with the Elves of the Woodland Realm, as well as keep to the marked path.”

Nilol smiled at his wife. “Would you have sent her away without my ever properly meeting her?”

“Of course not, dear,” Thira said, shaking her head. “I know better than to let the wounded leave without being first cleared to leave by their healer.”

“Night will fall soon,” Nilol said. “Rest here for the night, and I will check your wound in the morning. If all is going well, I will take you as far as to the entrance to the forest.”

“Thank you, Master Nilol, Thira,” I said genuinely, looking between them. “My father's spirit is surely glad that you found me.”


	9. Memories Send Us Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caila and Nilol chat before he sees her off to the completion of her quest.

The next morning, I woke up on my own, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The sun was beginning to brighten the sky, not yet risen in the early morning. Nilol was already sitting at the fire, which he had rekindled. I got up and went over to sit by the fire to warm myself up.

“Good morning, Caila,” he said. “How did you sleep?”

“Very well, Master Nilol,” I replied with a sleepy smile.

“And your wound?” He made sure to look at me, so he would know if I was lying or not.

“Painless,” I replied honestly, because in truth, it barely felt like anything was there, wound or stitching.

“Excellent,” he said. “As soon as you've eaten something, and I make sure the state of your wound, I can lead you to the forest.”

“Thank you again for your help,” I said, as he passed me some bread.

We sat in silence, eating in the quiet of the morning, watching the fire flicker and dance upon its fuel. It gave me time to think about what lay ahead, and I worried that I was too late in catching up to the others. I also worried that I might be too early, but it was better for me to meet them at the mountain's entrance, than to find I had missed them entirely.

I found myself missing them, even though I had only been with them for a short time. It was a wonder how fighting alongside people could bring them together, to form an unspoken bond, as I felt had happened during our short time together. Even though their leader could rouse my anger so easily, I felt a certain sense of kinship with them. I found myself thinking back to the Goblin settlement, when I feared I would be tortured, and looked to my company without meaning to. In their own way, I could see the fight in them, and I liked to think it wasn't based solely on the fact that I was a female. I liked to think they appreciated my oath, and how far I would go to keep it.

It was then that I realized they probably thought me dead. It was either that, or they thought I had been the one to abandon the company.

“You seem troubled,” Nilol said, breaking me from my reverie.

I met his concerned and curious expression. “I just realized that the company probably thinks me dead,” I said with a twinge of sadness. “They may not expect me to join them.”

“I thought you wanted to rejoin them?”

“I do, and must,” I assured him. “It's only just...there was a moment when I thought that half of our number was going to die. In that moment, even though I hadn't been with them for long, I was afraid of finding them deceased. I never want to cause anyone that heartache, even if I cannot help it.”

Nilol chuckled slightly, and I looked at him with a puzzled expression on my face.

“I don't mean to make humor out of what you've said,” he explained. “I just hear your father speak when you say things like that. It assures me that you will be alright when I leave you at the entrance to Mirkwood today.”

I smiled at the mention of my father and I being similar. “I am glad to hear you have that confidence in me, Master Nilol.”

When we were finished eating, I packed my bedroll and checked my pack, then reported back to Nilol. He had a look at the wound, and said that it was healing nicely, so we would still leave for Mirkwood as planned. All he had to do was wrap a clean bandage around it, securing it to itself with a small metal clip. I shouldered my belongings as he got some of his things together, and after saying thank you and goodbye to Thira, we were off.

“Now, if you need to stop for any reason, say so,” Nilol instructed.

“Understood,” I replied with a smile.

The cool morning air caressed my face as we walked, the sun gradually rising in the sky as we went along. I wondered if the company was seeing this sunrise in some other place, right along with me, and the thought made me smile. I hoped that they were well, and looked forward to revealing to them that, yes, I was truly alive.

“Have you been on your own ever since you left your village? Well, aside from having joined the company you spoke of,” Nilol asked after a while.

“I have been,” I confirmed. “Companions would have been a welcome sight, but at the time I was searching out a new home for myself.”

“And now?”

“Now, my sword and service are held in oath to the leader of the company I seek,” I replied.

“Caila, I do not mean to pry, but what will you do after your oath is fulfilled?”

I thought about it for a moment. “I'm not sure. I always thought I wouldn't have to make that decision until afterward. I suppose that I would go on searching for a home, once all was said and done.”

I noticed Nilol nodding in understand. “You have your father's tendency to wander.”

“I have been told the same sentiment before,” I remarked with a smile. “I would like to think it's a good omen for my fate.”

Not entirely too keen on talking about my fate, I changed the subject. “If I may ask, how did you and Thira become acquainted?”

I saw a smile overtake his expression. “If it can be believed, your father introduced us,” he began. “We were children when we first met. While Fen and I trained together, Thira would sit and watch. He noticed she was lonely, and knew her to be an only child, so he suggested that we befriend her. Soon, we would all play together after we had completed the day's training. The three of us became great friends.

“When Fen was away, Thira and I grew closer, and once we had come of age, I announced my intentions to her father. I was expecting at least one throwing knife to be aimed at my head, but to my surprise, both of her parents were elated. I was given their blessing, and Thira blessed me by saying she would be my wife. She and I were married by the time I saw your father again.”

“You met your love as a child,” I mused. “That must mean your bond is that much stronger.”

“Aye,” he confirmed. “At times, I believe we share one mind, the way we think and act.”

“How long have you been married?” I asked.

“Let us see...I believe this will mark fifteen years? No more than eighteen, I'm sure, but that day will come to pass.”

I remembered then the story that my parents told me about the way they had met. They hadn't grown up together but found each other nonetheless. They met, loved, married, and lived in the same village where I was born, and I remember walking between the homes and through the market, imagining my parents laughing and smiling with intertwined hands between them. My father always said that my mother was the sweetest woman he had ever met, but that wasn't to say she was delicate. My mother always said that my father was one of the most stubborn men she came to know, aside from her own father. However, that didn't keep her from loving him, and she found that his stubbornness came from being very independent---a highly admired quality. The one gift they both agreed was the greatest, apart from finding each other, was when I was born to them just before the sunrise. They saw it as a good omen, a sign that with the sunrise, a great and wonderful change was made.

I felt a tear drop down my cheek, and I hastily wiped it from my face before Nilol could notice it. They were beautiful and strong people, my parents were, and both were taken from me by something stronger. I clenched my jaw, trying to reign in my emotions before I began to weep. We needed to keep going, and I needed to rejoin my company.

Soon, we reached the forest, and I saw what Thira had meant by the woods being poisoned. What must have been tall, welcoming trees, were now dark and gnarled. I wondered what this poison was, this curse that could transform a forest into such a dark and foreboding place.

“You will be fine, as long as you stay on the marked path, paved by stone,” Nilol said. “Keep your wits about you, and do not drink any water that you find in any stream within the woods. Once you see the doors to the palace of the Woodland Realm, find the river and follow it. Do not approach any of the Elves and stay hidden from them for as long as you can, especially when you are close to the palace doors. Follow the current of the river, and you will find a dock. With any luck, there may be a boat to take you onwards.”

I nodded, committing his instructions to memory as I steeled myself to enter the forest.

“Thank you for everything, Master Nilol,” I said, turning to him. “I will not forget your kindness, nor the kindness of Thira.”

“I am glad to have met you at last, Caila,” Nilol replied. “I hope that you find your company, and that they take you into their number again.”

I nodded, then took a couple of steps forward. However, I stopped when Nilol called out my name, and I turned to see what he had to say.

“If, once your journey is finished, and you still have not found your home, you may find us,” he offered.

“Thank you!” I called out.

He nodded with a hesitant smile, and I knew he was uncertain about leaving me here alone. However, I knew I would be alright, and he had confidence in me, so onwards I went into the unknown, a feeling of dread creeping in as the sunlight was lost to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing says "Happy Birthday" quite like the response to this story! I'm so thankful to everyone who has read, given kudos, and made bookmarks. I hope you continue to enjoy this tale, and that new readers will enjoy it, too!


	10. Riverside Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caila returns to the party, blade in hand and heart on her sleeve.

I didn't rest once in that forsaken place. I either walked or ran, stopping very rarely only to catch my breath before going on. I didn't like the darkness, nor the sounds of unknown beasts moving around me. My sword remained sheathed, but my hand found the hilt frequently, gripping it tightly when the noises got too close. I followed the path until a bridge was in sight, and beyond that, huge double doors---the palace.

I stood still for a moment, watching two guards until I was assured that they hadn't seen me before carefully stepping away. I could hear running water nearby, and knew the river was close. I could feel the cool breeze coming from off of it as I drew nearer, and I was glad of it. It was one of the few feelings that didn't make my skin crawl in the forest, for which I was thankful.

I followed the current, vigilant for guards as I moved about, the hood of my cloak otherwise concealing my face. I passed the whitewater and followed the bending curves, and a while later, I found calmer waters. I looked about for the dock that Nilol had told me about and saw that it was empty. I guessed that there would be a boat along soon enough, so I hid myself behind a tree to keep watch.

Curious, I lifted the hem of my repaired shirt to check my stitches, which looked alright, still. The wound wasn't fully healed, and I had probably exerted myself more than I should have, but there was no sign of infection. I lowered my shirt, considering myself safe. At that moment, I heard movement by the dock, and I turned to see a man docking a boat! He left the boat once it was secured, so I decided to wait on asking him for a ride into Laketown until he got back to the boat. However, those thoughts were distracted when I heard voices from the direction of the rocks not too far from the dock.

I turned in the other direction, kneeling behind the tree to see what was going on. I swear, my heart leaped into my throat when I saw barrel after barrel come to the shoreline, and from each one came a Dwarf! There were still thirteen Dwarves and one Hobbit, the only one missing being Gandalf. Where had he gone to, now?

I heard underbrush adjust close to me, and my entire body stilled. I slowly turned my head and saw the man from the boat watching the company, armed with a bow and arrow. I glanced anxiously between them, and when he moved closer, I followed. He stepped lightly down onto the rocks, still higher up than the Dwarves, who hadn't noticed him yet. I watched him ready an arrow as he poised the bow to fit his aim, and before I could react, he released it. Then, he released a second one, and prepared a third, but I wasn't going to let it fly.

I took my sword from its sheath and came to stand directly behind him, holding the sword out in front of me.

“I would not advise a third shot, bargeman,” I said in a low voice, and watched him stiffen when I made my presence known.

He lowered his bow. “I'll be putting away the arrow,” he said before doing just that.

A look out of the corner of my eye showed me that the company was watching us, and I guessed that they didn't yet know who I was. I sheathed my sword, and the bargeman turned around to face me. He had dark hair and eyes, wore old clothes and yet stood tall, seeming very certain of himself---he was brave.

“Who would you be?” He asked, trying to see my face.

“My name is Caila, daughter of Fen, son of Alodal,” I replied quietly. “I don't mean to threaten you, and I intend no harm. I have made an oath to protect this company, and I was merely acting on that oath.”

“Why do you not show your face?” He asked, confused.

“They believe I am dead,” I murmured. “This will be the first time I have seen them since.”

He nodded in understanding before stepping aside so I could pass.

“There is one more thing,” I said before going down to the rocks. “I believe they'll be needing a boat across the water. Don't worry, we will pay you, but prepare for them to ask.”

He nodded once, then I passed him and made my way to the shoreline. I was anxious as I got closer to the company, not knowing what their reaction would be to my being alive. I stopped to stand where I was before them all, and soon enough, I heard the inevitable question.

“Er, who is that?” Bofur's voice was easily recognizable.

I removed the hood of my cloak from my head, and when I looked up at them, most seemed to be in a state of shock. Bilbo was the first to speak, and he moved closer to me, as if to see for himself that I wasn't an illusion of the forest behind us.

“Caila, you're...how are you alive?” He murmured.

“By chance, I was rescued by kind strangers,” I replied, speaking not only to Bilbo, but also to the others.

“We thought...we had seen you fall!” Balin came forward and said.

I nodded, sad that they had to see it happen. “I'm alright now, not to worry. I have traveled here, hoping to rejoin you as soon as I was able, and it makes my heart glad to find you again.”

Things began to lighten up as they realized I was real, that I was alive. However, things became solemn again when Thorin approached me with an unreadable expression. Everyone grew quiet.

“Prove to me that it is truly you,” he commanded.

In response, I unsheathed my sword and knelt as I had the very day I had made my oath. I held my sword out to him with open palms and bowed my head, calling up the oath in my memory like it had been made just the previous day.

“I, Caila, daughter of Fen, son of Alodal, do pledge my sword and service to Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King under the Mountain, to his kin, and his company. May I ever be of service by this oath until I am released from it by the command of the King Under the Mountain, or until death claims me.”

There was tense silence for a moment before Thorin spoke again.

“You were to be tortured by Goblins, and you showed no fear,” he said in a low voice. “You fought bravely in our escape and vouched for the honor of our burglar when I thought him lost. I was told you fought valiantly against the Orcs, and I believed you had died fighting. You were mourned, and now you find us and offer your sword and service to our cause once again.”

I feared from his tone that he would refuse me. I thought he would tell me to return home, wherever that would be for me, or tell me how much pain I caused the company. However, I was taken by surprise by what he actually said.

“Mahal has brought you back to us. I accept your oath, Caila, daughter of Fen, son of Alodal,” he said, like the first time, folding my fingers back over my sword. “May you act with valor and honor for so long as you are bound in service to those you have pledged to protect.”

I looked up to meet Thorin's smile, and my breath was taken away. It made me smile as I sheathed my sword, still kneeling before him. He clapped a hand on my shoulder, and I did the same, only I tried to hold back tears of gladness while doing so.

“Thank you, Thorin,” I whispered, as cheers surrounded us.

He shook his head. “No, Caila, thank _you_ for returning to us.”

I was so happy, I hadn't noticed that it was the first time he had addressed me by just my name, without mentioning the names of my father and grandfather.


	11. The Bargeman's Bluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caila catches up with Bilbo after reuniting, and new complications require creative means to bypass scrutiny.

The celebration over, we approached the bargeman about the boat. I was still on a kind of rush at being reunited with the company, that I didn't keep track of what Balin and Thorin said whilst conversing with Bard, as his name turned out to be. I tried to look serious, maybe even neutral, but I was filled with joy and full of new energy. I felt happier here, bartering with someone for a boat ride across the water, than I could ever feel if I stayed with Nilol and Thira...

That thought brought me up short, and I remembered Nilol's offer. I hoped he had gotten back to Thira unharmed, that they would be safe at their campsite and at any other campsites they would make in the future. Would I really be happy with them? Was I just happy now because I had been accepted into the company again? There was the possibility that the feeling would go away at some point, perhaps when and if Erebor was reclaimed, and then where would I be? What would I feel like doing, then?

My thoughts were enough to dim my joy, and so the serious expression on my face was no longer a veil hiding joy. I drew my attention from inward to the current moment, just as the offer of doubling Bard's payment came up. I remained silent, waiting to see what he would say...and then he accepted. We all climbed into the boat, barrels loaded already, and I was the last to board before Bard untied the boat from the dock and began to steer toward Laketown.

Soon, we encountered ruins and fog, and aside from some mumblings and grumblings from the Dwarves, the only other noise was the groan of wood moving as Bard steered the boat. I stayed near the back, watching the company sort out coinage to pay with. My thoughts were as ominous as the fog surrounding us, and I was so caught up in them that I nearly jumped right out of my skin when a voice broke my reverie.

“Caila?”

My jaw clenched, and I turned my head, only to see a curious-faced Bilbo at my side. I closed my eyes, exhaling as I relaxed. Why was I so jumpy? Perhaps I believed that, in addition to being able to travel quietly, the Hobbit could also read my mind. I managed to regain my composure as I realized that was a silly idea, and I gave Bilbo a small smile.

“I didn't mean to startle you,” he began to apologize.

I started shaking my head to stop him before the first words came from his mouth. “You are at no fault, Master Baggins,” I assured him, gesturing to the spot beside me for him to join me, which he accepted.

“You know, you don't have to call me that,” he said. “You can just call me Bilbo.”

“If that is what you prefer, Bilbo,” I said. I had some problem with not being formal with him, but if that's what he preferred, it was what I would say.

“Caila, are you really alright?” Bilbo asked softly.

I nodded, betraying myself by looking down at my hands. “I've just been consumed by incessant thoughts, is all,” I murmured.

“Well, it seems we have a while,” he offered.

I looked over at him and could tell he genuinely wanted me to open up. So, I decided to trust him.

“I missed this,” I said, watching as I interlaced my fingers together. “When I woke up, and wasn't on the mountain, I... I felt like something vital was missing. I have not been in the company's service for long, but already I felt...lost,” I confided. “I'm sorry, these are the thoughts of a child...”

“No, they are valid thoughts,” Bilbo contradicted gently. “Caila, I... Balin wasn't lying. Many of us saw you fighting the Orc, and when you fell...we wanted to go back for you. We shouted and cried out, but then we believed you were lost to us. After Thorin woke up, he stilled and looked for you, and when he asked where you were, we couldn't...we couldn't say it.”

When his voice broke, I had to steel myself inside to the point of pain to keep my eyes from watering up. There were no tears on Bilbo's face, but the way he relayed the events I hadn't been a witness to, I could see it. I could hear them...and that's when I realized it. That last noise before darkness took me had been them, crying out that they should turn back for me, and I covered my mouth with a clenched fist as I fought tears harder.

“He started to get angry, and I think he knew what we would say, but...he didn't want to accept it,” Bilbo continued. “Balin told him, and it was like...he stopped. Everything just...stopped, and no one could speak. Gandalf couldn't even offer any words of comfort. Thorin just turned away from us, and we stayed there for a while.”

In my head, I was begging him to stop. I didn't want to hear what it was like for Thorin Oakenshield to believe I was dead, didn't want to hear that it affected him, that it affected anyone. I was alive, wasn't I? I had rejoined the group, my oath was renewed, and I was there with them, again. To imagine their grief was overwhelming.

“I'm so sorry,” I whispered. “Bilbo, I...”

I shook my head and looked down, and I thought if I clenched my jaw any tighter, some of my teeth might break.

“Caila, there's nothing for you to be sorry for,” Bilbo reassured me. “Yes, it was hard to think you had died. Thorin was right, we all mourned, but...when you removed your hood at the shoreline? I know that I thought it nothing short of a miracle that you were before us.”

I smiled. “I'm glad to have returned to you,” I said, my words heartfelt. Then, my eyebrows furrowed. “Why exactly were you all in barrels?”

Bilbo went on to tell me one of the most amazing tales. After mourning at the rock where the eagles had put them, they had gone on to evade the group of Orcs that had attacked us on the mountain after the encounter with the Goblins. They had found safety in the house of a Skin-Changer, named Beorn, who could be a Man in one moment, then a great bear in the next. He had lent them his ponies in order to get to Mirkwood, and they were all returned, save for the horse that Gandalf had borrowed. He had gone to do something that he didn't go into detail about with, then left the company with the same message Nilol and Thira had given me---to not stray from the path. Now, I could see the sense in their warning, as Bilbo told me the odd illusions and tricks that the forest played on their minds. He told me about giant spiders that wrapped them in webbing, and freeing the Dwarves from the spiders, only to be captured by Elves of the Woodland Realm. All but Bilbo were imprisoned, which was how he was able to free the others, and that's why they were in barrels---they had escaped through the cellars, where a trap door dipped them straight into the river. They had been pursued by Orcs, eventually losing them as they reached calmer waters. That was when I had spotted them, and when I had kept Bard from shooting another arrow.

My eyebrows were raised in disbelief. “And I was just another dramatic addition to that series of events, wasn't I?” I marveled, shaking my head.

Bilbo chuckled. “Indeed, you were. However, you were a better surprise than the spiders, the Elves, and the Orcs.”

I grinned but withheld my laughter so I wouldn't be loud. In turn, I told Bilbo about Nilol and Thira, including the fact that Nilol had known my father. I left out the part where he had offered me a place with them at our journey's end, however.

“You were very lucky that they found you,” Bilbo said. Then, he got serious. “Your wound...are you alright?”

I felt a bit of soreness around the stitching, but I assumed that just meant I had to take it easy. “It's healing,” I said, without a lie. “Honestly, Master Nilol is a talented healer.”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow and folded his arms, looking every inch like a parent who was in no mood to be lied to by his children. The thought of him being a doting father made me want to chuckle, but I didn't dare do so in that moment.

“Bilbo, I swear on my oath that I am not lying to you,” I replied, hoping that would be enough. “If something is wrong, I'll say something.”

“You promise?” He asked, not quite convinced.

“I promise,” I replied.

The eyebrow of skepticism relaxed, and I inwardly let out a sigh of relief. “You'd better say something if it does. I don't care what's going on, if you dare hide that anything is wrong---”

I smiled. “Bilbo, I understand. I will be as careful as I can manage.”

He sighed, but the edges of his mouth lifted into a smile, albeit a perhaps exasperated one. “I'm glad you're back, Caila.”

“As am I, Bilbo,” I said, looking ahead, trying to peer through the fog. “As am I.”

We sat in silence until Bard's voice sounded up behind us, something about paying him now, and he was looking anxiously ahead. Thorin reminded him of the promise of pay only once they were safe in Laketown and received weapons, and not before.

“If you value your freedom, you will do as I say,” Bard told all of us. “There are guards up ahead.”

He was right. I could faintly see the outline of our destination through the thinning fog, and I was alert once again. How was Bard going to smuggle in our ragtag group without being noticed?

I should have known he would suggest the barrels. Instantly, I heard protests from the Dwarves, but really, they weren't in a position to disagree. Bilbo left my side to get into a barrel with the others, and I started to stand when I counted to find there was not a barrel for me to hide in.

“Caila,” Bard beckoned me.

I turned to look up at him. “What is it?” I asked, lowering my voice.

“There isn't a barrel for you to hide in,” he said, pointing out the obvious.

“The guards will see me, and won't allow me in,” I said, also stating the obvious problem. “How would you have me hide?”

After a moment in thought, Bard replied. “Just sit back where you were, and I will handle it,” he assured me, looking up and ahead.

I did as he said, trying to look less conspicuous and more like my place on the boat was unquestionable. We approached a dock, where Bard got off the boat to talk to a fisherman about loading the barrels with fish. I could hear the whispers of the Dwarves, who were relying on Bilbo's point of view from a hole in his barrel to know what was going on, and for a moment, I thought Bard was going to sell us out. However, the only exchange that resulted from their handshake was a multitude of fish being poured evenly into the barrels that the rest of the company were hiding in. I cringed, imagining the stench and incredible discomfort at having slimy fish dumped on their heads, but it had to be done. I was now thankful that there hadn't been a spare barrel.

Next was a checkpoint, where we stopped before a gate that barred us from entering Laketown proper. A friendly man spoke to Bard, asking if he had anything to claim. They exchanged small talk as the man readied the form of approval, but just as he was handing it to Bard, someone interrupted.

“Not so fast.”

This man was one of the sort that I had an immediate dislike for. His entire demeanor made my skin crawl, and of his voice, I could come up with just one word to describe it---slimy. He went on about Bard not being a fisherman, and my heart sank as he ordered the barrels to be overturned of their fish by a few guards that just so happened to be standing around. However, Bard was able to persuade him not to do so, wondering aloud about what would happen if the people found out Alfrid---the slimy man's name, as I heard---, was dumping good fish instead of giving it to the people. The word _rioting_ seemed to be the thing that stopped him. I was thankful that the Dwarves and Bilbo were still hidden, but all the sudden wished I was hidden as they were when Alfrid turned his attention to me.

“Now, you know there's no stowaways allowed unless by the Master's consent,” Alfrid jeered, looking at me in a way that made me feel very uncomfortable.

“She is no mere passenger,” Bard said, looking back at me before turning back to Alfrid. “She is my new bride.”

I tried not to let my shock show on my face. _That_ was how he was planning to get me into Laketown?

Alfrid looked me over suspiciously. “And where did you pick this one up, Bard?”

“A small village, near where my boat had passed. I have gone to see her in the past months, and at last married her, the entire village to serve as witness. I will go into town to register her later, but as for now, she and I would very much like to return home,” Bard explained convincingly.

I smiled and bowed my head respectfully toward Alfrid, even though my insides squirmed as I did so.

“Alright, just remember again, that we know where you live,” Alfrid said, giving the go-ahead to open the gate.

“It's a small town, Alfrid,” Bard replied. “Everybody knows where everyone lives.”

With that, we passed through the open gate. I was relieved that things we were going to plan so far, but I couldn't help but notice that strange looks were being cast my way. I daresay that a few were outright judgmental, but I tried to seem like I didn't notice a thing. I felt like I had done some terrible deed, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what they were thinking. I reminded myself that this was all a ruse, just a plan to get myself and the rest of the company to safety without attracting too much attention, but the looks I was receiving felt like they were burning holes through my clothes and into my skin.

Bard steered us in the silence to a house on the side, where he met with an older man. He got up and, after having a look around, began to tip the barrels one by one---until he got to a very irritated Dwalin, who told him “hands off!”---to reveal Bilbo and the Dwarves. Bard paid the man into unseeing them before we followed him off the boat. We had gone a ways before a boy approached Bard, and I assumed him to be the man's son.

“Da, the house is being watched,” he said in a hushed voice.

Bard seemed to think for a moment, and I wondered what kind of plan he would come up with this time. As it turned out, it involved the Dwarves and Bilbo using the plumbing to get into his house without drawing the attention of the spies outside of his house. They didn't like it much, but again, they weren't really in a position to argue. So, they went off in the direction Bard had pointed them to, and the three of us who remained went on to the house.

When we got there, Bard ushered his son and I into the house before throwing a fruit down to a boat with two fishermen just below, telling them to tell the Master that he was done for the day. When he entered the house, shutting the door behind him, I smiled as he was rushed by his daughters---one young, and one who seemed just a bit younger than myself--- before instructing his son to get the rest of the company into the house. While he'd gone to do that, Bard turned to me, lowering his voice.

“I apologize for the ruse. I hope I haven't offended you,” he said, making sure his children didn't hear him.

“It's alright,” I assured him. “You said what you had to, and I took no offense for it. The only complaining you may hear will be from the others.”

I thought I had seen a slight smile cross his face before he nodded, then went to go get blankets for the rest of the company as they came upstairs. I went to sit on a bench near the window to look outside at Laketown, and the view was no less dreary from higher up. I wondered if it had always looked this way, or if it was now a shell of its former glory. If that Alfrid fellow was in the service of this so-called Master, I could certainly believe the second guess was more likely. It all looked very ramshackle, although I would never dare say that to anyone living there.

My focus shifted when Kíli sat on the bench next to me. I noticed his facial expression was strained, and he was paying careful attention to his knee. Was that blood?

“When did that happen?” I whispered.

He looked up at me from his knee, as if he had only just realized I was sitting next to him. “It's nothing,” he murmured, clearly lying.

“Have you had that looked at?” I asked, now noticing that Thorin's youngest nephew looked a little pale.

“It'll keep for now,” he whispered back, attempting to give me a reassuring smile. “I'm fine.”

Again, with the stubbornness of Dwarves. I could understand why he wanted to hide the wound away, but I still thought it should be looked at. However, I didn't press the subject any further, since I knew at this point that I wasn't going to get any answers from him on the matter. That didn't mean I wasn't still concerned, however.


	12. Sneaking and Suffering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A distraction plan to further the agenda of Thorin and his company doesn't work out, in more than one sense.

Soon, Bard set a bag of weapons on the table at the center of the room, and from the wetness of the bag, I could only assume that it had been submerged and out of sight. The Dwarves considered the weapons, asking what some were, but ultimately set them back down on the table, clearly displeased. While I could see some use being made of some of them, I understood why they didn't like what Bard had provided. They were used to axes and swords, heavier weapons that were forged and crafted with care. Bard countered that they wouldn't find better outside of the village armory, which was kept locked, and I didn't miss the glance I saw exchanged between Thorin and Dwalin.

They began to plan aloud after Bard left, who seemed to be in an urgent hurry to goodness-knows-where. I had been right in guessing that they were intending to break into the armory. However, I had also heard Bard instruct his son---whose name, I heard, was Bain---to not let the company leave. I doubted that the Dwarves would stop to listen to a child, though.

“Caila.”

I lifted my head at the sound of my name. I looked up to see Thorin before me with a serious expression on his face. There was also a hardness in his eyes, one that I thought just came with dealing with this task.

“I need you to be a distraction,” he explained. “Do whatever you must to divert attention away from our efforts, so that we may have time on our side.”

I nodded to convey my understanding, thankful that I wasn't going to be directly helping with the robbery. There was still some guilt inside about assisting it, but I had pledged my service, and knew I needed to help however I was able.

I immediately got up and casually went down the stairs, making it seem like I was going to use the bathroom, but then jumped to a little bridge nearby once the coast was clear. I tried to look like the vision of innocence, smiling with my hands folded behind my back, over my cloak. I looked at the homes surrounding me with interest, just as much, I thought, as I had when I was in Rivendell. I was going for an airy portrayal, one of naivete and youth, without going overboard. Though I passed people, none approached me, and I crossed bridges until I could see the trailing of a Dwarf's coat around a corner, and I knew I was near the armory.

“Where do you think you're going?”

The voice stopped me short---Alfrid. He was like a snake, the way he crept around corners and snuck up on me like that. He wasn't anything like Bilbo, whose hiding skills were natural to his kind, and were accepted and forgivable. I put a hand to my chest, forcing a smile onto my face as if startled, yet not too bothered.

“I'm sorry sir, I didn't see you there,” I said with what I hoped sounded like a nervous giggle. “I must have been lost in my thoughts again.”

He looked me up and down as he had earlier, only with less skepticism and more of something I wanted to slap him across the face for. However, I held back from doing so.

“Sure, you were,” he said, unconvinced. “Where would your 'usband be?”

“He went out to do an errand,” I replied kindly enough. “In fact, I was just out looking for him, to see if he wanted to go register me now, before the sun sets.”

“A wise decision,” he said with his slimy voice. Goodness, how I despised him. “Perhaps I could 'elp you find him. Being the Master's deputy, I can 'ave guards sent out to look for 'im and bring 'im to you. It's a shame, leaving 'is new wife to search for 'im in an unfamiliar place.”

I could tell he wasn't really concerned. In fact, I had a sneaking suspicion that he was the reason that there had been spies watching Bard's house. I wasn't going to trust him for a second, not really. However, as much as it pained me to do so, I had to act as if I could...to an extent.

“That's a very kind offer...Alfrid, you said your name was?” He nodded. “But...if I'm to be honest...”

I looked both ways before leaning in just a little closer, so that he could hear what I whispered next. “I was planning on surprising him,” I confessed in a conspiratorial fashion. I drew back so he could see the sentiment I meant to convey, to make myself seem more convincing.

“As much as Bard may be pleased by your efforts, I do insist on accompanying you with a couple of guards,” Alfrid said, clearly not going with the flow that I intended to establish. “As you said, it's getting dark very quickly, and being a stranger in a new place as you are now could be...unfortunate.”

The only unfortunate thing I knew I would encounter in Laketown was him. However, I had to coddle his ego.

“Perhaps I should just return home,” I said, pointing behind me to the way I came from. “I wouldn't want to impose on the Master's deputy. You must be very busy, as such an important member of the community.”

A smug grin crossed his face as he adjusted his coat collar. “It is a very important position,” he said self-righteously. “Not too many people realize that, 'ere. They're a really ungrateful lot, when it comes down to it.”

I furrowed my brow in a look of confusion. “That's no way to respect such a pillar of the community,” I insisted with a tone of gentle compassion. “To think, your first and foremost job is to make this a better place to live, to provide for the people and help the Master keep things running smoothly, and that's how you're repaid?” I shook my head as if in disbelief. “I don't know how you continue on like this.”

Alfrid shrugged. “It isn't about receiving their adoration, really, although I do quite deserve it,” he replied. “I continue on, as does the Master, doing what I must to contribute to Laketown and its glory.”

“These people must not know how lucky they are, for you to dedicate yourself in service to them.”

He considered me for a moment, sending my skin crawling. “They should be more like you,” he said, his tone of appreciation not exactly touching my heart. “I think you'll be just fine around 'ere. Wait until I tell the Master that Bard 'as married someone with sense!”

“I thank you for the compliment,” I said, bowing my head graciously. I paused, then acted as if a great idea had come to mind. “You know, I think I'll return home and make a special dinner for my husband and his children,” I said with awed enthusiasm. “That will be sure to pass the time until he returns from his errand, and it may be a better surprise than sneaking up on him. Now that I think of it, I wouldn't want to scare him. That would be awfully inconsiderate of me.”

It seemed that after indulging him with more compliments than I dared to otherwise make, Alfrid had warmed up to my act. “Alright, off you go then, before the night settles in. You'll make Bard into an honest man,” he said with a smile.

“You think very highly of me,” I said, bowing my head again in parting. “A good night to you, deputy!”

“To you, as well,” he said, still seeming smug after my compliments.

I turned around to leave, not letting out my sigh of relief until I was sure he was far away. I hoped that I had done my part long enough for the theft to be completed, even though the idea of thievery still wasn't too favorable in my mind. However, who was I to contradict the majority of the company, who happened to prove to be some of the most stubborn creatures I had ever come across?

I hadn't gone more than five steps before I heard a commotion, coming right from where the armory was located. I cursed under my breath, waiting, and then heard running toward the armory. I cursed again, knowing that despite my best efforts, they had been caught. The only thing I had managed to do was make Alfrid less suspicious of me, as if I had cared enough to go through with that blatant flattery.

I made to go where other people were hurrying along, where I supposed the company was being brought to be punished by the Master, but was stopped by pain coming from my wound. I was unable to bite back my gasp, my hand automatically going to cover it protectively as I used the other hand to support myself against a column until I was able to catch my breath. No, this was not supposed to be happening. Nilol's stitches were supposed to work, he was a great healer, and my wound should be holding.

_Says the one who ran through a forest and exerted herself far too much after having the wound fixed up_ , I thought to myself.

Sometimes, I really despised the rational voice in my head. I knew it was idiotic to push myself, but I did it anyway, and now I was paying the price for it. I lowered myself against the wall of whatever building I was next to, sitting down gently. When I withdrew my hand from my wound, I hoped and prayed that I wouldn't see what I should have known was going to be on my palm---surely enough, blood. I settled my head against the wall heavily, closing my eyes as I cursed my turn of luck. I was just thankful that everyone else was too caught up in what was happening to the company to notice me, far enough away so that I didn't feel self-conscious of expressing my fear. However, as beneficial as the solitude was, there was also a problem with it.

How was I going to get help?


	13. Life in Your Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Efforts are made to save Caila, and some muddled memories are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: If you are bothered by even vague mentions of getting stitches sans anesthesia and/or implied panic attacks, please don't put yourself at risk by reading this chapter.

I tried several times to move, but none worked without pain, and therefore didn't work at all. I tried standing, which only resulted in dizziness. Then I tried crawling, which was its own kind of madness. Scooting away from my spot not only felt stupid, but probably looked the part, as well. All my efforts were for naught, save for making me more exhausted and desperate as a result. I felt torn between the need to rejoin the company, as I felt I should since I was in on the theft plot, and getting help. I couldn't do much in the way of either, though, and there was a level of frustration incorporated in with everything else. It was practically night, now, and since my clothes were relatively dark, I reckoned that either people wouldn't see me, or they would see me and leave me be. Circumstance wasn't smiling too brightly on me, at that point.

Then I heard them---footsteps. They were quick and heavy steps, and they were nearing closer to me. I worked my eyes open to see who it was, and I could just make out Bard's approaching figure. He didn't seem to notice me, though, and when I looked closer, I thought he looked angry, which would explain his quick pace.

I was unsure if, in my exhaustion, I had made some sort of noise, but for whatever blessed reason it happened, Bard stopped in his tracks. Even when I had closed my eyes, I could tell he had seen me, because now his footfalls came toward me, and soon I knew he was knelt right near me.

“Caila, what are you doing out here?” Bard asked. By his tone, I could tell he probably hadn't seen my bloody hand, nor the blood that was sure to have stained my shirt.

“Thought I'd just...go for some air,” I said, slurring somewhat.

I could imagine that he was furrowing his eyebrows by the way he spoke next. “Have you gotten drunk?”

I lazily moved my head from side to side. “No, although I wish...I wish I were.”

I opened my eyes to meet his puzzled expression, then watched as confusion turned into alarm as he finally saw the blood.

“Caila, how did this happen?” Bard asked me urgently. When my eyelids drooped, I felt him shake my shoulder a bit. “Caila, eyes on me, alright? When did this happen?”

“Days ago,” I replied in just above a whisper. “It was sewn, but...I just...I did too much...”

I felt Bard carefully ease me into his arms before making to stand, and we were on the move. “You're going to be alright, just hold on, Caila,” he urged me, going as fast as he could without causing me further distress or damage.

I fought to stay awake, but my strength was fading quickly. To his credit, though, Bard got back to his home just in time, and I could hear someone open the door from the inside.

“Bain, retrieve the healing herbs, salves, and wrappings, quickly,” I heard Bard instruct his son. “Sigrid, clear the table so I can set her down.” I assumed that Sigrid was the oldest of the two daughters.

I was soon lowered gently onto the table, and something soft was placed under my head. I felt my bodice being untied, and someone lifted my shirt free of the bandage that hid the stitched wound. I could hear the wrappings being cut away and discarded, followed by snipping sounds that I couldn't place at first. I soon realized my stitches were being cut through and removed, which stung a lot. Once that was done, I felt the wound being cleaned and dried, which relieved some of the stinging and pain.

“Sigrid, take over for me,” I heard Bard instruct. I heard him move away from my wound, and closer to talk to me. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

I turned my head and did as he asked, although it took far more effort to accomplish than it should have.

“Good,” he said, nodding. “Caila, I need you to focus on me, alright? No matter what may hurt, focus on me, even just my voice. Try to stay awake.”

At first, I didn't understand his meaning. What could hurt worse? My answer came when I felt hands holding down my legs, and Bard took my hand in his. They need to restitch the wound, I realized. When I had gotten stitches from Nilol, I hadn't been conscious, and now it was happening again, only I was going to be awake through the whole thing. I was willing to die at the sword for the company, and yet, the idea of getting my wound sewed up was the thing that terrified me.

“You're frightened, I know,” he said, trying to soothe me. “This must be done, though. The wound needs help closing, and many of your stitches were broken. Try to stay as still as you can, alright?”

I closed my eyes tightly as tears began to streak my face. I started getting lightheaded, and my breathing started to hitch.

“Slow your breathing,” Bard instructed me. “You are going to be alright, you understand? You are not going to die.”

I felt the pain of the first puncture, and I fought to not make a startling noise. I tried to focus on the ceiling as I felt the next one, sucking in breath too quickly and making me more lightheaded. Some thought at the corner of my mind told me that it shouldn't hurt this much, that something was wrong. That thought sent my heart pounding harder and faster, and it became more difficult to even out my breaths.

“Move as quickly as you can, Sigrid. She's not going to be awake for much longer at this rate,” Bard said, alarm creeping into his tone.

My eyelids fluttered shut, and I felt my hand being squeezed.

“Hold on, Caila,” Bard urged me. “You're doing well, and it will be over soon.”

“I---I can't!” I rasped out between hurried breaths.

“Yes, you can!” He replied, refusing my answer. “If you have survived this long in the company of Thorin Oakenshield, you can survive this.”

I whimpered from the pain, shutting my eyes tightly and gripping Bard's hand. I didn't want to hurt him, but it was a knee-jerk reaction to the pain, something I couldn't help. I felt Bard's hand on my forehead, which gave me something else to focus on.

“She's burning up,” I heard him mutter.

I knew that was a bad sign, that it meant there was an infection to fight. That was probably also why these new stitches were so painful---the skin was probably inflamed. I could feel my eyes roll back, and my body began to tremble.

“Bain,” Bard called over his son. “Go to the Master's house. Say that it is urgent that someone from Oakenshield's company comes here. Go!”

I heard his son leave, although it was getting harder for me to hear anything softer because of the disjointed rhythm of my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

“Da, she's bleeding again!” I heard one of his daughters exclaim.

“Take my place,” I heard Bard instruct.

His hands left my forehead and my own hand, only to be replaced by a smaller, softer hand being wrapped around mine. I felt pressure on the wound, so I assumed Bard was trying to stop the bleeding, so that meant Sigrid was now holding my hand. I couldn't control the trembling, and that scared me. I didn't know if it was a fear reaction, or a reaction to blood loss, or if it was a combination of both. All the uncertainties scared me. I let my head loll to the side away from Sigrid, dizziness making it difficult for me to keep my head up.

“Caila, stay with us!” I heard Bard urge through the fog in my head. “Don't fall asleep, alright? Just hold on.”

Just then, I heard the door open, and footsteps approached.

“Caila?”

It was Bilbo. Bain had brought Bilbo.

“Bard, what's happened?” I heard Bilbo's worried voice ask.

“There is an infection that made the skin swell around the stitches,” Bard informed him. “We started to stitch it up back up after removing the old ones, but she began to bleed again.”

Footsteps went to the side of me, where my head was still lolled to the side, and I heard a chair scraping across the floor. I assumed it was done by Bilbo, to make up for the difference of height between him and the table. I felt his hand grasp mine.

“Caila, it's Bilbo,” he said, the alarm clear in his voice as he tried to sound calm.

I opened my heavy eyelids, blinking away the bleariness so that I could see him.

“There you are,” Bilbo said, giving me a small smile. “You're going to be alright, you understand? You'll be on the mend in no time.”

“I think the bleeding has stopped for now,” Bard said. “I have to finish the rest of the stitches. Try to distract her from the pain.”

I shut my eyes tightly, fear flooding my body again as Bard removed pressure from my wound. I felt Bilbo adjust his hand around mine, and I grimaced as I readied myself for more punctures. The trembling was receding with my strength, and my breaths slowed and became shallow.

“Caila? Caila, can you hear me?” Bilbo asked. I responded by squeezing his hand.

“Good, that's good,” I heard him say. “I'm glad to know you kept your promise. This is what I meant by saying something if you were unwell.”

I allowed a ghost of a smile pull up the corners of my lips, but it went away as soon as I felt the first puncture. I knew Bard was going to want to work as quickly as possible, but I wasn't ready. I clenched my jaw and held tight to Bilbo's hand, holding back another whimper from escaping as I felt another puncture being made.

“You are brave, you know that, right?” Bilbo went on, trying to distract me. “Balin told me about what happened with the Goblins, you know. He said you were fearless, even _defiant_ , and then you fought off those Orcs? You went from one fight to another without resting your sword, from how I understood it.”

I felt another puncture, and a tear slid down my face. I wasn't feeling so brave in that moment.

“You are so young, and you've already made two oaths of sword and service, although you weren't really ever released from the first one,” Bilbo continued, squeezing my hand to return my focus to him and away from the stitching. “I heard it being considered. We were going to do a little ceremony for it, but Thorin wouldn't do it. I think he was still hoping that you would return to us.”

I worked my eyes open, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“Yes, Thorin,” Bilbo confirmed, understanding me without words being spoken. “He tried so hard to hide it, as he seems to do with all of his feelings for the sake of the others, but I would see it sometimes. Try as he might, I knew his heart was heavy. He seemed more withdrawn than usual, and you know how he already is with that. In dreaming, I heard him speak of the bright star that was lost in the dark night, and I believe he meant you. I noticed the change in him on the shoreline when you proved yourself, and I saw Thorin return. _You_ did that, Caila.”

I smiled and could feel my eyes slowly shutting as my face relaxed.

“Caila? Caila, no, come on,” Bilbo urged, rubbing the back of my hand. “Stay awake, alright? I know you're tired but try to hold on.”

I squeezed his hand to let him know I was still conscious, and I heard him release a shaky sigh. “Bard?”

“It's nearly done,” Bard replied, no longer sounding alarmed, just busy. “All that will be left to do is apply the salves and wrap the wound.”

“Don't think...I'll be going...to the mountain,” I whispered weakly, my eyes still closed.

“ _That_ is for certain,” Bilbo said, sounding like a father to his child again, which made me smile. “Don't you try to sneak out, either. If you think I would be displeased, just imagine what Thorin would do.”

“Right,” I confirmed, knowing full well that I probably wasn't going to feel up to escaping to join them, not even if I wanted to.

I heard the door open again, and footsteps sounded again.

“I thought you were staying with the others?” I heard Bilbo question the new arrival. Someone else from the company had come?

There was no reply. Instead, the footsteps came closer, and I sensed Bard pause in his ministrations for a moment before continuing to tend to my wound. Bilbo let go of my hand, and for a moment I was scared, but then another hand took my hand in theirs. This hand was rougher than Bilbo's had been, and although I knew it belonged to one of the Dwarves, I still wasn't sure who it belonged to. I felt their other hand on my forehead, and even though I tried my hardest to open my eyes, I couldn't. I was too tired for even that. I felt my abdomen being wrapped with bandages, and the hand still held mine. I tried to flex my hand but could only manage to move a couple of my fingers. Nevertheless, they got the message, and gently squeezed my hand to let me know that.

“She has a fever,” I heard Bilbo say quietly. “Her wound was tended to, but it was strained, and became infected. He's had to patch her up all over again. She's...lost a fair amount of blood.”

The hand on my forehand displaced strands of hair from my forehead to clear my face, but they didn't say a word. I felt the wrapping cease, and I heard Bard step away.

“She will need rest,” he said, his voice farther away than before.

A moment later, Bilbo spoke. “I'll leave you with her.”

Footsteps walked away, and still my hand was held. It was much quieter, now, with my heart not pounding in my ears. I flexed my fingers again, still trying to open my eyes. I wanted to see who Bilbo and Bard had left me with...wait. It was obvious, wasn't it?

“Do not leave again,” I heard a gruff voice murmur---Thorin. “I thought you lost to us once, and I cannot bear that sorrow a second time.”

I furrowed my eyebrows and made to squeeze his hand, frustrated that I was so weak right then. Why wouldn't my damned eyes open?

“Tomorrow, we reclaim the mountain,” he continued. “At the last light of Durin's day, our home will be opened to us once more. All that we have been through comes to this, what we set out to do.”

He paused before speaking again. “But even if the dragon is destroyed, and Erebor is won, something will still be missing. You have sworn an oath to me, Caila, one fulfilled only by my command, or in death. I do not intend to release you, yet. You must promise me that you will live to fight another day, that you will return to us when you are able.”

I finally was able to open my eyes, blinking away the haze to see Thorin's face above me. I saw his eyes widen slightly when I met his gaze, and I managed a one-sided smile.

“Caila?” He asked, searching my face.

“I promise,” I whispered. “Take...back your home, Thorin. May...the halls of Erebor see a king on the throne once more.”

“And may you live to see those halls,” he murmured, giving my hand another squeeze. “Rest now, Caila. Regain your strength.”

I managed a nod before I couldn't fight the exhaustion any longer. I let my eyelids drop, and I righted my head just before I sank into darkness, my entire body heavy with fatigue.


	14. Healing and Other Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard and Caila talk, and the swordmaiden realizes what was right in front of her.

When I woke up, sunlight was streaming in through the windows of what I recognized as Bard's home. I rubbed my eyes to clear them, then looked around without moving the rest of my body, which felt heavy. I was resting in a makeshift cot, covered with a blanket to keep me warm. I felt a little warmer than the blanket should have made me feel, and I struggled to remember how I ended up there. I subconsciously reached to my hip for the hilt of my sword, but my fingers did not find it. I froze for a moment, feeling very vulnerable without my own weapon secured to my person, until I looked off to the side of the cot. My sword, still in its sheath, was set down beside the cot, and I let my heart settle into a calmer rhythm.

As I stared at the ceiling, I continued to try to remember what had happened. I could recall coming to Laketown, and Thorin asking me to be a distraction so that the company could raid the armory. Had I really bolstered Alfrid's ego that much? I was surprised I hadn't become physically ill in the process. There had been a commotion, and I had tried to rejoin the company, but then...pain. I could remember the pain, the sight of my blood on my hand as I braced my back against the closest building I could find.

From then on, it was a blur of sights and voices. There was Bard, then one of his daughters. More pain, Bilbo's voice, then...Thorin. Was that even real? Or had I just been hallucinating that he was there?

There was something wrapped around my abdomen, and with careful fingers, I reached under my shirt to feel what it was. My fingers touched bandage wrappings, and then I felt them---the stitches underneath. I immediately drew my hand away, not wanting to disturb these new stitches, which would probably mean having more done. Although the memories of the procedure were foggy, at best, it wasn't an experience I was willing to go through again any time soon.

“Caila?”

I turned my head and looked up to see Bard, who walked over and knelt beside the cot. He looked tired, and I felt a twinge of guilt. He reached over to feel my forehead for a moment, nodding to himself.

“You've cooled down some, but I would still take it easy,” Bard advised me, withdrawing his hand. “Having something to eat should help.”

He helped me to sit up with my back braced against the wall behind my cot, before going to get something from the table. Bard handed me a bowl of soup and spoon, and I realized just how hungry I was only then.

“Thank you,” I said, receiving it gratefully.

He nodded, going across the room to fix himself a bowl as I started in on my own soup. I considered it nothing less than heaven. Bard sat down in a chair nearby, and we ate in silence. I was still trying to piece together details from the night before, and when I was just about finished, I decided to ask.

“Bard, what happened last night?” I asked tentatively.

He looked from his now empty bowl, to me. “How much do you remember?”

I recounted the details I could recall, still only able to remember a mixture of things seen and heard after a certain point. I still wasn't sure if Thorin's words had been a product of a fear-crazed mind, or if he had actually spoken them aloud to me.

“Most of your stitches had broken,” Bard replied. “Your wound was bleeding again, and you developed a fever to fight the infection that made the skin swollen. You were very afraid of being sewn back up, and I thought many times that you were going to pass out. My son left to get someone from your company and brought Bilbo back to you. You were very weak, and while you had calmed down somewhat...nothing was certain.”

I hated being a burden to people. It was my fault, exerting myself as I had. My mind had been ready before the rest of my body had been, and this was the result of that decision to leave sooner than I should have. Maybe I should have taken more breaks to rest, if not sleep, in Mirkwood? Should I have stayed with Nilol and Thira for a while longer? Nilol had said my wound looked like it would hold up, but maybe he had underestimated just how active I would be to find the company again.

“After Bilbo...was someone else there?” I murmured.

There it was, the slight glint of anger. It was just a sliver of what I had seen before Bard had taken notice of me the previous night, that I hadn't seen again in any form until now.

“Thorin Oakenshield came here, just as I was about to wrap your wound,” Bard replied, a slight edge to his voice.

So, it wasn't a dream. I closed my eyes and sighed with relief. It was good to know that I hadn't been that delusional in my fear and the fever. However...why was Bard hiding his anger from me? Did something happen that I couldn't remember?

“When I saw you last night, you seemed angry,” I ventured. “Did something else happen?”

There was a moment of silence before he spoke again.

“Did you know that you had sworn to protect the heir to the throne of Erebor?” Bard asked.

“I did,” I replied. “Why? What has he done?”

“It isn't what he has done, so much as what has been foretold will happen,” Bard said uneasily. “Words were spoken long ago about the return of the King Under the Mountain, and the joy of the people. But it also warns that the water will burn.”

I furrowed my brow in confusion. What did he mean, the water would---?

Oh...

Oh no.

“The dragon?” I whispered, not keeping the fear from widening my eyes. “That's what it means, doesn't it?”

Bard's solemn nod sent my jaw clenching for the umpteenth time, and I closed my eyes in regret. Yes, the mountain would be won, but at what price? Smaug was going to decimate Laketown, destroy homes and livelihoods, all because he had been forced from the mountain.

I set the bowl and spoon nearer to the wall, then pulled the blanket from off me. I sat up and began to scoot into a sitting position at the edge of the cot so that I could get up. If the company hadn't left yet, I had to warn them of what was to befall Laketown, that no matter how quiet Hobbits could be, Smaug would wake. I remembered Thorin's words---they were leaving for The Lonely Mountain today. I had to catch them before it was too late, unless they were already long gone.

“What are you doing? You're still healing,” Bard insisted, the anger gone from his voice as he made to stop me from standing up.

“I must warn them that their efforts are in vain,” I said, working up the strength to get up. “Your home cannot be the price for theirs, not if it means waking a dragon and leaving others to die by fire!”

He knelt down in front of me, hands before him, ready to put me back down if I tried to stand. “Caila, you still have a fever, which means the infection is still a risk. Your body went through a lot last night and needs to be rested.”

“I swore to serve until my oath was fulfilled,” I said, beginning to feel desperate. “I swore that I would serve Thorin's kin and company, and that doesn't always require a sword. In this case, it needs words and sense. They need to know that the pain they suffered in losing their home will be the same that Laketown's people will feel, and it just isn't right!”

A sudden burst of strength enabled me to rise to my own two feet, despite Bard being prepared to set me back down. However, I didn't get as far as I had wanted to, having set sights on the front door. I took a couple of sure steps before I faltered, quickly becoming dizzy and having to close my eyes against it. I felt Bard's hands on my arms as I fell back without realizing it. I was readjusted so he could gently lead me back to the cot, carefully lowering me back down to sit. I was out of breath, bowing my head nearly to my knees when Bard adjusted me again. This time, he brought my legs up and onto the cot, my back once again braced against the wall as the blanket was pulled over my lap. I felt defeated in my weakness.

“I can't...I can't let them do this,” I said between breaths.

“You would not be able to stop them.” Was that regret in Bard's voice that I heard? “I know you swore an oath, but you are in no condition to act on it. Besides, you promised Bilbo that you wouldn't try to leave, and promised as much to Thorin.”

I remembered my promises, but they had been made _before_ I knew that their efforts would bring destruction to Laketown.

“I tried to tell them last night what I've just told you,” Bard continued. “The Master saw only the prospect of wealth and didn't consider the prophecy. In the fervor of the moment, none of the people remembered, either. It is by the Master's consent that the Dwarves and Bilbo go on to The Lonely Mountain.”

So, they hadn't been punished? That would explain why Bilbo and Thorin had been available last night. It wouldn't have been so if they had been imprisoned for attempted robbery. I could believe that this Master, whoever he was, was as selfish and greedy as Bard's words made him seem. If Alfrid was any indication of his employer's demeanor, it was easy to know for certain, even without meeting the Master for myself...which I hoped and prayed would never happen. I rested my head against the wall behind me, working on resigning myself to stay right where I was.

“I am...so sorry,” I murmured, shaking my head from side to side.

“It isn't your fault, Caila,” Bard tried to reassure me.

I looked over at him, my expression still awash with guilt. “It makes no difference, Bard.”

It was then I decided something. “I will help how I can,” I said resolutely. “I will help you, your family, as many as I can, to escape the wrath of Smaug.”

Bard's eyebrows raised, and it looked like he was trying to hide an amused smirk from me. “While your offer is appreciated, Caila, remember that you can hardly stand.”

“I mean it,” I said, lowering my voice. “My company and I brought this terror to your doorstep. It is the least I can do.”

He nodded, considering my words, and for one triumphant moment, I thought I had won him over.

“Caila...you will die if you try to exert yourself again,” Bard said, his tone solemn. “I have no doubt of your bravery, if the brief mentions that Bilbo recalled for you are of any indication. You also have a kind and noble heart for one so young. Your resolve is not enough, though. Even after the destruction of the dragon, I would not be keen on telling Thorin that you died, not after how he doted on you last night.”

I looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. I remembered Thorin's words, but I considered them the words of a caring leader and nothing more. Because that's what they were...right?

“I watched on, and the way he looked at you and spoke with you...he acted so very familiar with you, Caila. Bilbo, himself, said that he heard Thorin liken you to a bright star in his sleep. He cares for you, and the last thing I would want to do is tell him that his beloved perished in my care.”

I couldn't believe Bard's words. Thorin's _beloved_? We didn't have any of those talks. Maybe it was different when it came to speaking with Dwarves, but I was accustomed to the idea that two people were open about that with each other. There would be in-depth conversations, a mutual confession of affection, and then they would decide what to do next. Either I was very ignorant of Dwarf culture (which, I wouldn't exclude as a valid possibility), or Bard was overthinking things.

“You don't believe it?” Bard asked.

I shook my head. “There's no way, is there?”

He shrugged. “That all depends.”

I quirked an eyebrow up. “On what?”

“He didn't leave right after he told you to rest.”

My eyebrow was still raised. What was that supposed to mean?

“I couldn't see what he was doing from afar, but once he and Bilbo left, I saw it,” Bard elaborated. “He left a braid in your hair.”

“Does that...mean something?” I asked, subconsciously reaching up to try finding the braid.

“I would think it does,” Bard replied. “I am not aware of all Dwarf practices, but it would seem the braiding of one's hair is very important to them.”

My fingers found the braid, lightly tracing the design as my eyes went to my covered knees. It felt simple, but knowing the craftsmanship of Dwarves, there was probably more to it than I could feel and see. The end of it was secured with a silver bead, which unlike most of the braid, I could see. There was a small insignia on it that I couldn't place, but I didn't focus on it too much. Instead, my mind did what it was accustomed to when faced with something that befuddled me---denying and repurposing the information.

“I have done relatively little in my time with the company for him to have such a view of me,” I said, knowing I was going to start babbling, but not withholding my words. “I don't think...I mean, he is the next King Under the Mountain, which means if Erebor is reclaimed and he becomes its official king, he would court and marry a Dwarf woman. It would be the diplomatic thing to do, the proper thing for a proper king to do.”

“And what of your view of him?” Bard asked out of curiosity.

This, I could handle. “Thorin is a great leader, worried for his people, yet still bound and determined to win their home back. He keeps the minds of the company focused on the task at hand. While he isn't the most open with his own feelings, I feel it is done so that the others can sense that he is dependable and strong. There have been times when Thorin's reactions have prompted my anger, because I deemed them unfair, but I understand now that those are the moments when he lets his emotions slip, just briefly, before he cages them again.”

“And outside of your oath?”

“What?” I asked in confusion.

“You spoke from your oath just now, and not from your heart,” Bard gently elaborated. “Outside of the person you must be in your oath to Thorin and the company, how do you feel about him?”

I had been about to say there was nothing more to it than what I had already supplied. However, bits of memories resurfaced, giving me pause.

_Thorin, stepping forward as the company's leader in Rivendell. Gray streaks in his long, dark hair, his beard short._

_The first time he spoke to me, sounding as much a king as he looked._

_When the Great Goblin had ridiculed Thorin, provoking my anger._

_When Thorin defended me in the face of my imminent torture at the hands of the Goblins._

_His smile taking my breath away, after he had accepted my oath a second time. When he thanked me for returning to the company, and how he had excluded the names of my father and grandfather in addressing me._

_When Bilbo told me how Thorin had reacted, thinking I had died at the hands of an Orc, and saying Thorin changed when he saw me alive on the shoreline._

_The hardness in his eyes as Thorin said I needed to be a distraction from the robbery attempt, so soon after Bard had called me his bride to get us into Laketown._

_When Bilbo told me what Thorin was like after he thought me dead, calling me a bright star in his sleep and hoping I would return to the company._

_The feel of one hand holding mine, the other on my forehead as Thorin told me not to leave, that he could not bear that sorrow again, to promise him that I would fight another day and return to the company when I was able to._

_My fingers touching a braid in my hair, made by Thorin's own hands._

I raised a shaky fist to my mouth, closing my eyes tightly as I leaned my head against the wall, my face tilted up. _It cannot be. It's a delusion, from the fever._ However, my attempts to disprove the glaringly obvious weren't working this time. I couldn't believe my own heart could be so unpredictable and _blind_.

“Caila, what's wrong?” Bard asked with concern, feeling my forehead to check my fever.

I lowered my fist, keeping the rest of my body still. “I'm a fool,” I whispered. “A blind...stubborn fool.”


	15. Dreams to Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dream of horror precedes an unplanned prison break idea.

I fell asleep shortly after, having been helped to lie back down by Bard. I heard him mention resting the fever off, something about stress only making it worse. My sleep was fitful at first, the combination of realization and the fever refusing to let me rest. However, I settled into a deeper sleep, only to be bothered by horribly vivid dreams---of Bilbo facing Smaug, of the dragon escaping Erebor despite the Dwarves' best efforts, the whole of Laketown burning in dragon fire. The one that finally woke me up was the worst.

In it, all the Dwarves in the company were stood in a line, wielding their various weapons as they faced down Smaug. As Thorin led the charge, the dragon's chest colored with heat, and just before Smaug could incinerate the Dwarves, Bilbo came jumping down from a rafter right on top of the dragon's back. Flames were sent up and away, Bilbo holding on only to his sword, which wasn't as deep into the creature's hide as he had hoped. He dropped hard to the floor, and the dragon turned once again on the rest of the company, letting dragon fire out and around, melting gold and flesh alike in the blink of an eye.

Right as Smaug roared in triumph, I woke up with a start, my eyes opening wide, my breathing fast. I carefully sat up, minding my stitches as I looked around. Immediately, I knew far too much had happened when I was asleep this time.

For one, sunlight no longer streamed through the windows. I could tell it was nighttime by the darkened sky outside, as well as the slight chill in the air around me.

There were also three Dwarves standing around the table where I had been the night before, standing around it as someone else moaned in pain and writhed around upon it.

Bard was nowhere in sight, and neither was his son. Both of his daughters were there, but he and Bain were noticeably absent.

One of the Dwarves---Bofur, I realized---left in a sudden hurry after telling whoever was on the table to “not go anywhere,” even though it was obvious by the sounds they were making that they weren't moving any time soon. After the front door closed behind Bofur, I moved to sit on the edge of the cot, preparing myself to stand so I could see what was going on. I braced my hand against the wall as I rose, and I hoped that I wouldn't get dizzy and fall again. Once I was sure that wouldn't happen, I took my hand from the wall and took a couple of steps to test my luck. When no dizziness came to pass, and it was clear that my balance was unaffected, I moved closer to the table.

Óin and Fíli were stood around Kíli, who was the one on the table. His face was ashen and sweaty, and he looked to be in massive amount of pain. My eyes went immediately to the knee he had insisted was fine yesterday, and knew it was the source of the problem without having to ask. Óin seemed to be waiting, maybe for Bofur, and Fíli was trying to comfort his brother in vain as Bain came back, and all eyes were on him. Where was Bard?

“Where is your father?” I asked Bain, who looked with slight surprise at the fact that I was up and around. Other than that, he looked frightened.

“The Master's guards arrested him,” he said nervously. “He had the black arrow, because there was a tremor in the ground from the mountain, but I had to hide it for him after we split up.”

Black arrow? I wasn't about to ask. It seemed that it was only at that moment when the conscious Dwarves in the room realized I had gotten up, but only a brief glance at me let me know that fact. I understood they were concerned about Kíli, whom I was becoming more concerned about by the second, too. I thought for a moment, trying to figure out a plan, as I couldn't just keep standing there like an idiot when something, anything had to be done. Whatever the black arrow was, it was obviously important when it came to the dragon, and if it had been in Bard's possession until now, he must have known where it was to be taken.

“Where do they hold those under arrest?” I asked Bain.

“The prison connects two buildings over the water,” Bain replied.

I walked with him to the door, which he opened to show me. I could see it, not too far off, just as he had said, hanging above the water. I made up my mind and went over to retrieve some of the body armor that had been removed until my fever had broken, like my bracers and my bodice, which I tied tightly yet carefully over my wound. I secured my sword around my waist and pulled back my hair with a strip of leather before buttoning my cloak around my neck.

“Where are you going?” Fíli asked, looking up from his younger brother.

“I'm going to go rescue Bard,” I said, turning to face the prince. “The Master has no reason to take him into custody, just that he wants to have it done. Hopefully, I'll be back soon.”

I was about to step forward before there was a noise at the door. Sigrid went to answer the door, asking after Bard, but when she screamed I knew it wasn't him. Surely enough, Orcs barged their way into the house, from both the door and the roof. This sent Tilda screaming, and I ushered Sigrid and her brother to their little sister to hide. I pulled out my sword and sank it deep into the first Orc I saw, spinning to stab another through the chest. Fíli and Óin were sent into a scramble, trying to get the youngest heir to the throne out of harm's way while also trying to fight off the Orcs. They seemed to stream in endlessly, and I was running on adrenaline as I swung and slashed.

I heard an arrow speed through the air and find its target, which was when I saw what could only be Elves. There were only two---one had light blond hair, nearly white, and his female companion had long red hair. They used blades, bows and arrows against the Orcs, and while I had no idea why they were here, I was grateful for the help. Eventually, the Orcs stopped coming, sounding like they were making to escape. The male Elf went outside to pursue them, calling to the female Elf---Tauriel?---to join him. She seemed torn between leaving and staying, her eyes going from the Elf to... Kíli? She made to go, but when Kíli made a pained sound, she made up her mind and returned inside. However, someone else came right then, and she stood for a moment with something in her hands before she and the other person---who turned out to be Bofur---reentered the home.

Kíli was placed on the table again, which had been knocked about by the Orcs, his older brother and the company's healer at his side again. Bofur joined them, and the Tauriel began to work with the herbs in her hands. I had no clue what it was, nor what it was for, but when she instructed for Kíli to be held down, I moved to hold down his left leg as hard as I could manage to, and Sigrid held the leg with the injured knee still for the Elf. She began to chant in what I could only guess to be Elvish as she manipulated the greens in her hands, before pressing them into Kíli's wound, causing him to cry out. As she continued her ministrations, though, he began to change. He became calmer and looked at her as someone kept in a dark room for ages would look upon being in the sunlight for the first time. The Elf didn't look any different to me, but I could only imagine what the young Dwarf was seeing.

Once he had stopped thrashing about, I looked up at the still-open door, mindful of time. I still intended on rescuing Bard from prison, but I needed to make sure I wasn't needed at the house for the moment. I looked up at Fíli for my answer, and with a nod, I let go of his brother's leg and made to leave.

“ _Now_ , I will hopefully be back soon,” I said before leaving. I did so quickly, so no one would question the state of my health.


	16. Fire and Prophecy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard is rescued, but Caila's work isn't over yet.

I made sure to have the hood of my cloak up the whole time, pressing my back into the buildings I passed when I wanted to remain unseen. Every so often, I would look to The Lonely Mountain, expecting at any moment to see Smaug break free from it, but I tried to keep my mind on the task at hand. It would do Bard no good for me to get shaky at the thought of impending doom, and so I went about my business with as little thought devoted to the dragon as possible.

Luckily, there weren't that many people to hide from, as there weren't many out at this hour. I assumed that the Orcs from earlier had fled the town, which led me to wonder why they had been there in the first place. They had come with a mission in their minds, only to leave after a relatively short while...why? I was just glad that I didn't have to worry about hiding from them, although my sword's presence at my hip made me feel confident about my odds, if it were to come to that.

Soon, I could see the prison suspended above the water, and I watched the barred window for any signs of Bard. Soon, I could hear him calling out to the guards to let him out, and I breathed a sigh of relief. At least they hadn't roughed him up to the point of unconsciousness...or so I hoped. I spied the entrance to the prison and did my best to look every inch the concerned wife of a prisoner. I lowered my hood as I approached the desk, where a couple of men were drinking on the job and folded my hands in front of me demurely.

“Excuse me, kind sirs,” I addressed them, making myself sound the right amount of uncertain. “I heard from a neighbor that my husband was taken in tonight. I was wondering if I might be able to visit him?”

One of the taller men turned to address me, a sneer on his face. “An' what would be yer husband's name?”

“My husband is Bard,” I said.

The man laughed with his friends when I said the name, and I tried to act like I didn't want to punch them all in the face.

“His children are worried, you see,” I added. “They only want to know that their father is alright, and I hoped I could hear from him why he was put in a cell.”

They stopped laughing, seeming to buy my story. “Maybe ye'll make an honest man out'a yer 'usband, miss,” the taller one said, slurring his words. “Right this way.”

I followed him up the stairs to the cells, and could hear him say something snide to Bard before turning to me and indicating which cell Bard was in. “'Ere ye are,” he said with a scowl. “Will be back in ten, I will.”

“Thank you, good sir,” I said bowing my head respectfully.

I made sure he was down the stairs and out of earshot before going to the bars of Bard's cell, where he stood with a confused expression on his face before recognizing me.

“Caila, what are you doing here?” He whispered, looking back in the direction I had come from with the guard.

“Why do you think?” I whispered back, lifting my cloak just enough to show him that I had my sword with me.

He understood what I meant, but still had a look of concern on his face. “You were feverish before I left,” Bard said. “What are you doing up and about?”

“The short story is, your son mentioned something about a black arrow, and if you using it has anything to do with killing the dragon, my guess was that it would be smart to retrieve the man for the job,” I said with a one-sided smile. “Oh, and Orcs attacked. The children are fine, and Kíli is on the mend, but I have a feeling we're running out of time on the more important issue,” I added.

“You'll have to be quick,” he whispered, seeming to resign himself to the fact that I wasn't going away to lie down or rest.

I nodded, then looked once more over my shoulder before retrieving a small piece of metal from my pocket. It wasn't large, and I had made sure it was unbent for this exact purpose. I inserted one end of the metal into the lock, then began to carefully work it to open the lock.

“What will I tell your children?” I said a bit louder, but not by much so as not to arouse the guards' suspicions.

“I do not know,” Bard said, seeming to understand what I was doing---buying time. “I should be out by morning, but I'm not sure.”

“I had to find out from our neighbor, you know,” I said, sounding concerned as I continued trying to pick the lock. “Imagine, my first full day in our home, and I hear that you've been arrested.”

“I am truly sorry,” Bard said, casting a look at the stairs. “I will make it up to you and the children, I promise.”

_ Click! _ I covered up the small sound with a cough, pocketing the tiny piece of metal before easing the lock open.

“Perhaps you should return home,” Bard said in a concerned way. “It gets colder here at night than what you are accustomed to. I wouldn't want you to catch cold.”

I carefully took the lock off and adjusted the hinge clasp just enough to make it easier for him to open the door. “That would probably be best,” I agreed. “I hope to see you soon.”

“I hope the same,” Bard replied. Before I could turn to leave, he caught my attention again, beckoning me close. “Make sure my children leave with the others,” he whispered. “I want them out of harm's way.”

I nodded. “I will make sure of it,” I whispered.

I hooked the lock behind my back on my belt, hidden by my cloak as I made to leave down the stairs. I put on my best distraught face as I reentered the entryway, but I didn't need to. The men I had left were now fast asleep, and I took advantage of that fact to make a speedy getaway.

I dropped the lock quietly into the water before rising back to full height and making my way back to the house. I pressed myself against the buildings again as necessary, keeping my hood down so no passerby would be suspicious of my nighttime outing. In less time than it took to get to the prison, I was back at Bard's house, knocking three times before entering to let those inside know that I wasn't an enemy. I shut the door behind me, then acted quickly.

“We all need to leave,” I said to those gathered. “We must go now, before the dragon escapes.”

“What do you mean, before the dragon escapes?” Tauriel asked, brow furrowed.

“I mean that Smaug is prophesied to leave the mountain with a vengeance tonight, and Bard has instructed me to get his children to safety before destruction hits, along with everyone here,” I specified, choosing my words carefully so I wouldn't scare the younger children, yet relay the importance to those who could handle it.

“We're not leaving without Da!” Tilda cried.

I knelt down to her level. “I've helped your Da escape, and he'll be along soon,” I assured her. “However, he was adamant that I get you and your siblings to safety, alright? You will be safe, I promise you that.”

After a moment, the little girl nodded her understanding. From that moment on, we all made ready to leave. There was a quake of the ground just as we were ready to descend the stairs, and every hair on my neck stood up. It had come from the mountain, I was sure of it.

“We need to hurry,” Tauriel rightly reminded us all.

With that, our group of nine went down to the little boat docked on the lower level. Somehow, we were all able to fit without causing the vessel to sink, which I took to mean fate was smiling upon us so far. We untied the boat from the dock, and the Dwarves began to row us through the water to the outskirts of town.

Suddenly, a terrible crashing noise split the silence, and I heard a voice on the wind that was unlike any I had ever heard. It was a low, guttural voice sounding from above us, and I realized with a spike of fear that it was done---Smaug had broken out of Erebor. However, the Dwarves did not stop rowing, not even when the first flames shot down and began to incinerate Laketown.


End file.
